Spider-man Unleashed
by aTasteOfDarkness
Summary: The life of a masked hero was hard. Trying to balance its challenges while still in high school was harder. Still, Peter managed to do it, until it became too hard to maintain. Then, Peter decided to try an alternative approach. Peter X Multi. Lemons, lots of it.
1. Chapter 1

It was the Flash, the star of the football team and his annoying bully that finally managed to push Peter over the edge.

He was having a terrible week. J. James Jameson, his boss and his biggest nemesis, had turned the intensity of his attacks to eleven, all because he had made the terrible mistake of breaking the arm of one of the criminals he had arrested. Of course, for Jameson, it was just an unimportant detail that the guy was trying to rape a woman while brandishing a knife, telling stories about how he was going to leave her bleeding if he doesn't find her tight enough. Still, that didn't matter for Jameson, nor for police, who had brought an arrest warrant for his name. None of the field officers actually tried to enforce it, of course, who had a different view about the rights of the rapists, but still, it was enough to damage his reputation significantly.

It was enough to make him angry, but the fact that Gwen Stacy, his crush and prospective girlfriend, started to date one of the jocks, making his mood infinitely worse. He understood where she was coming from. After all, he had ditched her during their first date with no explanation, and she had no idea that he was at the other side of the town, trying to save two children from a burning building. To her, he was just being an asshole. And to get revenge, she took the invite of one of the school jocks, whose favorite past time was trying to humiliate and bully Peter, to tonight's school dance, despite knowing the full history between them. A fact that Flash found very amusing, unable to keep himself from reminding Peter during each break.

He was glad when the last bell rang, announcing his freedom from the hellhole that the government, with all its infinite wisdom, called high school. He sincerely hoped that he came across a mean villain tonight, one with enhanced durability for preference, allowing him to cut loose, blowing some steam.

With his mind busy with the patrol routes, he wasn't able to react in a timely manner when he felt his danger sense going off. He realized Flash was trying to push him, but it was too late to react. He could have avoided it, his spider senses gave him sufficient time, but not without revealing that he was far more agile than a baseline human. So, he prepared himself for collusion, and a second later, the metallic noise from the locker rang in the corridor.

Peter felt anger tickling his heart. The push itself didn't hurt, but the laughter that followed it did. Several football players surrounded him, covering his escape route, while Flash and his best bud Jason took the center. "Hi nerd," Flash exclaimed, as he patted his friends, shoulder. "Jason had decided that you're not going to come to tonight's dance. He doesn't want your ugly mug to disgust the chicks. We want them appropriately horny for the after party. He is curious about how loud this Gwen chick going to squeal."

Peter gazed at the students that surrounded him. Some were snickering, clearly enjoying the situation, while others bore forced grins, happy that they weren't the ones that got the attention of the school kings. Still, nothing hurt as seeing Gwen on the side, watching the proceedings with a conflicted expression. She wasn't laughing, but she wasn't doing anything to help either. She just watched.

Then Flash spoke once more. "Come on nerd, answer, or are you going to go and cry to your uncle."

Peter felt something twisting and changing inside him irrevocably. He tried to help people to the best of his ability, day and night, risking his life in the trash-filled streets of New York, only to be vilified and insulted at each step, both by media and government. And here there was, people he was protecting, throwing the death of one of the people he respected most to his face. He stood up, his face twisted in anger. Flash proved that he had a brain and a survival instinct despite his stupid image, and took a step back, realizing that he had crossed a line that shouldn't be crossed, and awakened something that best left sleeping. Jason, on the other hand, didn't. He took Peter standing up as a personal insult, and took a step towards him.

He went down in a punch, unconscious.

Still, Peter didn't care much about Jason, and dashed towards his target. Flash tried to throw a punch towards him, but Peter dodged it negligently, then grabbed his arm, twisting until Flash was on his knees, letting out a shout filled with pain. The rest of the team started closing in, and Peter twisted his arm a bit more. "Stop, don't come any closer," Flash shouted.

"Smart boy," Peter whispered, his casual tone making it even scarier. "One more twist, and your football career is over. After all, this is your throwing arm." Flash whimpered. "So," Peter continued casually. "I wasn't able to hear the last thing you said. Could you please tell me again now that I'm close enough to hear it."

"I'm sorry," Flash whispered, genuinely sorry. It wasn't just from the fear, Peter could tell. It was one of the nifty benefits of his power set, ability to read people accurately.

"Good," Peter said in a false jovial tone. "But still, I think a similar punishment is in order. I will break your legs if I see either of you on the ball, understood." Flash nodded, still shocked that their favorite target was much stronger than his frame suggested. "Neat," Peter commented. "Still, it's a pity if Liz spends the ball without a date, right?" Peter commented, pointing at the blond girl next to Gwen who was watching the proceedings with an astonished expression. Then, he looked directly at her. "I'll pick you at eight, is that okay for you?"

Liz nodded, shellshocked, and Peter stopped holding Flash's arm, stepped over his collapsed figure, and walked away from the crowd, which exploded into shocked whispers. He could see Gwen trying to catch his gaze, but he avoided hers, knowing that he was far to pricky for either of them to enjoy the talk.

* * *

Four hours later, he was riding on a recently purchased motorcycle. For once, his luck struck true when he came across two rival gangs, trying to gun down each other, and managed to set fire the warehouse that served them as the battlefield in the process. He barged in the middle, immobilizing both groups almost trivially and saved them from the fire. And if he had hit a bit harder than he was supposed to, no one was willing to complain. But the true windfall came in the form of two briefcases, one filled with drugs, the other filled with cash. He let the drug-filled one to burn, but the cash-filled one was too good to pass. It was the least the city owed to him for all the stupid shit he was doing at least.

The fresh injection of a hundred grand was the thing he needed the most. He decided to treat himself. The first thing he did was to visit a secondhand dealer, and picked a decent bike, sold cheaply because of an unreliable engine. Peter didn't care about it, as he was able to fix much more complicated issues when he was trying to come up with his little inventions. He also picked some new clothes, complete with a leather jacket that cost more than the bike. An hour in his garage, and the bike was sliding on the ground like a dream.

Which was why he was speeding through the highway, enjoying the wind around his body. It wasn't as fun as flying across the buildings, but the lack of responsibility as he swerved through the traffic was more than enough compensation. Soon, it was five to eight, and he was in front of Liz Allen's house. He removed the helmet, and honked. A second later, Liz appeared at the door, dressed in a sexy red dress. "Peter," she exclaimed in shock. "I didn't know you had a bike." Then she dragged her gaze over his body. "And nice clothing."

Peter shrugged. "I decided to do something for myself for a change."

"Good choice," she answered. "It fits you." She stopped for a moment, looking deeper than her vapid attitude suggests. "Somehow, you seem more real on it than in school, where you just disappear at the background."

Her answer was another shrug. In the end, she was right. Peter's actions, even before his transformation, had been tailored to avoid attention. He was quite young when he learned the benefits of keeping a low profile. But he wasn't willing to suffer the consequences of his forced anonymity anymore. "Are you ready for a fun night?"

"Of course, though I can't ride your bike dressed like that."

"Why not," Peter said. "A little preview wouldn't hurt."

She laughed even as she walked closer. "Cheeky, Mr. Parker. Be careful though, no one likes a braggart."

"It's not bragging if you can back it up, honey," he said, then waited until Liz carefully sat, displaying nothing, then placed her helmet on. "Hold tight," he said before cranking up the engine, cruising through the streets of New York in a neck-breaking speed. Her cries petered out, but her arms kept their hold around his chest, keeping her breasts pressing on his back. An enjoyable presence, he decided.

Liz's face was burning bright with excitement as they finally pulled in front of the school, half of the school already there. The sight of Liz Allan behind Peter Parker, driving an impressive bike was enough to send a wave of silence across the crowd. Admittedly, Peter didn't care much. The crowds lost its effect on him quite easily after all the exposure he received as Spider-Man, both good and ill.

Instead, he turned and presented his hand to Liz, and took a strategic position in front of her that no one would see the erotic sight she displayed as she tried to dismount the bike wearing a mini dress. No one but him, of course, but that was a given. "Cheeky," Liz said, but did nothing to protect her modesty as she threw her leg, gifting Peter with a spectacular sight, that she had neglected to wear any panties.

"Cheeky," he whispered, leaning into her ear.

She blushed prettily. "You looked pretty down, and I decided you could use something to cheer you up." Then, she smiled sinfully. "Did I do something wrong."

"No," Peter said with a matching smile as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "You did nothing wrong." Then, they walked into the gym, the music blaring loudly. "Drinks first, or would you prefer dancing," Peter asked.

"Let's go with the dance, refreshment would be better after we build up a bit of a thirst. Also, I'm curious about your moves."

"I aim to satisfy," Peter said, and they walked towards the middle of the court, which was re-purposed as a dance platform."

The dance was short, but heated. Peter could feel the crowd falling silent around them, but he didn't care much as they jumped and twirled, her well-developed body pressing to her in a frequency most would classify as inappropriate, all while somehow managing not to flash the crowd despite her short dress and a certain absence of underwear. But the opinion of most, Peter had decided never to listen, so they continued to dance with a reckless abandon.

Soon, they were walking towards the table that held the drinks, Liz's face shining with sweat. Not enough to damage her make-up, of course, Liz had proved pretty careful about that particular aspects. "How can you be so fresh," she said in astonishment. "We're dancing for half-an-hour, and you're not even breathing hard."

Peter shrugged. "I'm fitter than I look," he said. Dancing was nothing compared to his usual daily activities. Swinging across the buildings were far more exhausting than most would have thought. Also, he had a feeling that Liz wasn't as tired as she displayed, but using the opportunity to take deep breaths, which had a very impressive effect on the cleavage of her dress.

"You are really full of surprises today, aren't you," Liz answered with a smile that filled him hope about the trajectory of their date.

But before he could say anything, he saw Gwen walking towards him, with a sad expression on her face. On his side, he felt Liz stiffen. "Peter, can we have a talk," she said with a sad voice.

Peter could see that she could feel genuine remorse, but he wasn't feeling particularly forgiving. "Not tonight, Gwen," he answered, and she flinched. It wasn't a surprise, as Peter had never used such a cold tone on her before. "Maybe tomorrow during the lunch," Peter answered, feeling a bit of pity when Gwen looked like she was about to cry. "I don't think we can have a talk tonight without saying something that's best left unsaid." Gwen nodded, her eyes shining sad.

However, it was Liz's reaction that surprised him a bit. She took a hold of his arm, pulling it towards her until his forearm was comfortably seated between her spectacular tits and whispered in a tone loud enough to be heard by Gwen. "Come on, Peter," she whispered. "It's a bit stifling in here. How do you feel about a quick stroll on the roof." As she said that, she sat on the table, and her legs parted slightly, but enough to make Gwen's eyes grow. Peter inwardly smiled, enjoying the way Liz decided to stake a claim in the territory.

Gwen looked angry and hurt, but Peter didn't care about it tonight. Tonight was about him, and if Gwen couldn't handle it, it was her problem. She should have thought about it more carefully before choosing her method of revenge, one he had no problem of replicating. "Let's go," he said, took a hold of Liz's hand, and started walking towards the stairs. He noticed the victorious glance that Liz sent towards Gwen, but he elected not to comment on it. Tonight, Gwen was in the doghouse, so he wasn't very inclined to pity her.

Instead, they passed though the tunnel that linked the Gym and the school, climbed the stairs leading to roof silent. They arrived at the door, and Liz tried to open it, only to realize it was closed. She turned towards him, half teasing and half-disappointed herself. "It doesn't seem like your lucky day, stallion," she said, followed by a soft laugh.

"Don't be so sure," he said even as he pulled a small piece of wire from his pocket, and pushed inside the lock. A second of struggle, and the lock clicked. "Tadaa," Peter said, pushing the door open.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you," Liz said, genuinely impressed. "I should be happy that I'm living on the third floor, as you proved the locks aren't enough to protect me from your hungry paws."

Peter let out a genuine laugh. The idea that a couple of floors providing him with a barrier was frankly ridiculous, not that Liz knew it, of course. They stepped on the roof, and before even closing the door, Peter pushed her on the wall, preventing her routes of escape by placing his arms on both sides of her. "Slow down, stallion-" she started, but Peter elected to silence her with his lips.

For a second, she tried to push him away, but just for a second. His lips started to caress hers, enjoying his first kiss. He knew that he was inexperienced, so he shifted to his usual behavior, letting his instincts to take control. The result was spectacular, first, any attempt of creating a distance stopped, then her lips started to answer, slowly at first, slowed by his aggressive shift, but soon, she started to match his aggressiveness, her hesitation deserted in a corner.

Peter brought his hand down, driven by desire, about to push his hand under her skirt, when his spider-sense warned him that it was a bad idea. Neat, he thought. Sometimes, his powers were really convenient. Instead, he let his hands caress her back through the dress, its fabric providing little barrier to his touch. On that, he realized the benefits of his powers weren't limited to warning him about the mistakes he was about to make. His ability to read body language was very helpful in showing which touches worked the best, and which didn't. As a consequence, he was playing Liz's body like an upright bass without even moving to the real sensitive spots.

"This is ridiculous," Liz whispered during a lull they pulled away to catch their breath. Her face was crimson in arousal, her eyes shining with a hunger that would have scared Peter before today. "How can a boy could be that good in his hands."

"So," Peter answered with a smug smile. "From that statement, should I understand that there are girls that are better than me when it comes to it." Her expression, akin to a rabbit caught in headlamps, was enough of an answer for him. "How interesting, Mrs. Allen. It seems that it's not only I that's hiding some enticing surprises." Before she could gather herself enough to put a false defense, he locked her lips in a kiss once more, continuing his relentless assault. Soon, he could feel her legs starting to tremble, and he slid his hands to her hips, purely to support her, of course. The fact that his hands had slid under his dress was a result of an accident.

A few minutes before, Liz might have pushed him away, not wanting to be put out in the first date, but Peter strongly doubted she had the ability to reject anything with the orgasm she was about to experience. And Peter, it felt amazing to keep her under control, stripping her defenses with just making his fingers dance. He decided a climax deserved a proper sendoff and brought one of his hands over her entrance, teasing her in a way that destroyed any control she had. The only thing that prevented her cries to bring a teacher was Peter's lips, muffling her cries. Soon, her arms pulled his body tight, letting him feel her trembling body with its full intensity, his fingers stained with her juices.

"That was amazing," she murmured, but Peter's attention was on Gwen, who stood at the doorway, looking at them with a confused mixture of arousal and tears. On any other day, Peter would have been more sympathetic, but today, he only bothered to raise his hand and gave her a little wave. Though he had to admit, using the hand that was stained with Liz's juices was a true asshole move.

Gwen turned and run away, her sound of crying reaching to their ears. "That was cruel," Liz managed to say, though her euphoric expression suggested that she approved the cruelty he displayed.

Peter just shrugged. "She deserved it," he said. "So I decided to make her struggle a little before I fuck her tomorrow and make her forgive me."

A shocked but amused laugh escaped Liz's mouth, though it had enough edge to suggest that he would have received a much more violent response if he tried to utter that statement before he gave her an earth-shattering orgasm. "You're very cocky, Mister Parker. But careful what you wish for, you cannot handle two gals of our caliber."

"Really," Peter said, his tone deceptively calm, instead of squeezing her tit to communicate his perspective. "How about if I prove it to you."

"Okay," Liz said with a smug expression on her own. "Give me two orgasms before I make you cum, and I don't raise a stink when Gwen slaps your ass to Los Angeles when you try to make a move on her after tonight's spectacle."

"Deal, but with a modification." Liz raised her eyebrow questioningly. "Make it three orgasms, I don't want any doubt to remain."

"Cocky," Liz said with a smirk. "Too bad that you're going to fail. It would have been fun to watch Gwen slapping you in the school."

Peter smiled even as he grabbed her shoulder and pressed her against the wall chest first. "How about I show you just how cocky I'm…"


	2. Chapter 2

Liz's answer died on her lips as she twisted her neck and noticed what Peter let out of his pants. "Suddenly I feel really happy that you changed the deal, honey," Liz said as she dragged her gaze over his length. "With that monster, two climaxes doesn't seem as impossible as I first thought."

"I didn't know you were a size queen, Lizzy," Peter said as he aligned his cock with her entrance, enjoying the worshipful expression on blooming on her face.

"Don't be silly, honey," she said, her explanation interrupted by a satisfied moan as he pushed his presence inside her. "All women are size queens, especially when such a monster attached to someone that knows how to use it to its full potential. We just don't want to admit it."

"Good to know," Peter whispered into her ear, followed by a soft nibble teasing the sensitive skin on her neck. "But hold tight, because, with the bet, I don't feel like coddling you."

"Pride comes before the fall, sweetie-," Liz started, only for her sentence to get interrupted by a loud cry as he pushed himself deeper inside her, her warmth enveloping his shaft snugly.

"Tight," he murmured in enjoyment, spending a second to enjoy the feeling before continuing. "But, keep your voice low, Lizzy. If your cries pull an audience, I'll take the bet as my victory."

"You know what," Liz managed to say between moans. "I don't think I like the diminutive way you're using my name."

"Tough cookies," Peter said even as he pulled back for a second, only to push even deeper. "You just have to get used to it." Then, before she could say anything, he grabbed the top of her dress and tugged down, revealing her breast, round and full, much better than he had imagined. He let his fingers dance over her globes, caressing her soft skin. Then, his his fingers sank deep, testing the perkiness of her flesh. "B plus," he whispered into her ear, knowing it would galvanize her even further.

"B plus," she growled in playful anger even as she started moving her hips in a way that enhanced Peter's pleasure significantly. "I will show you B plus you tasteless asshole."

"Not a bad idea," Peter whispered with a hungry tone even as he brought his hand over her puckered hole.

"Don't you dare," she growled, though her panic was unfounded. He didn't have any intention of doing it right now. Anal required an extensive preparation to prevent it from being a disaster, a preparation he wasn't willing to bother tonight. Of course, it was up to air for the future. Instead, Peter continued slamming into her, focusing to build up her pleasure until her moans started to become too loud, echoing in the rooftop. He pressed his hand over her mouth, muffing her before she brought half of the school as spectacle. With her voice cut down and being assaulted from behind without mercy, with the support of his free hand that managed to discover a new set of sensitive spots, triggering an insistent, pervasive tremble, invading her body completely.

"Did you liked your teaser, Lizzy," Peter said, deliberately stretching her name, knowing that she would be unable gather a proper amount of anger after another orgasm, and which would make her even more annoyed. It was amusing to watch the birth of the sparks of anger in her eyes, only to be forcibly turned into pleasure as he continued slamming deep into her.

Receiving no answer, he pulled back, intent on changing the position which would force Liz deeper into the pleasure, only to realize something interesting. Somewhere during their intimate encounter, she had lost her ability to stand without assistance, and only his enhanced reflexes saved her, his arms wrapping around her midsection to prop her up. An easy laugh departed his lips.

"You'll see you smug bastard. Just let me catch my breath a second, and I'll blow your mind."

"That's interesting," Peter said mockingly as he pressed his shaft against her entrance once more, "that you believe the notion that I have the slightest intention of letting you to catch your breath."

"But," she stuttered, trying to sound shocked, but the way she was moving her hips gave up the lie that came from her lips. "But that's unfair."

"Lizzy, Lizzy," Peter repeated in amusement, enjoying the way she perked up every time she heard her unwelcome nickname. "The deal is one to three, but you're still crying foul. Maybe we should cancel the deal, if you are going to play dirty."

"Bring it on, asshole," she repeated, propping Peter to caress her puckered hole once more. "Again, Lizzy, be careful of the words that are escaping your beautiful, yet careless lips. Seed my subconscious too much, and you might end up with an unwelcome surprise." Then he stopped, and taken an attention to the way she purred. "Or is that a welcome surprise."

The way her body stiffened was enough answer for Peter, but he made a note and shelved it for now. It was an encounter for the future. Instead, he propped her against the wall once more, then crouched until her nether lips were just an inch away from his lips, a distance that dwindled into nothing just a second later. His tongue conducted a brief exploration of the surface as he carefully examined the way her body reacted, identifying the points of failure her body was in possession. Then, he put an action map in place, and started it by drawing a large, smooth circle around her slit.

"I hate you," Liz shouted in a tone that contained no more hatred than rainbows and cotton candies contained.

"Really," Peter said, pulling back a second, letting his fingers to take the shift for a second. "So, you would be satisfied if I pulled away, turned back, and left you here."

She turned, glaring daggers. "Do that, and I cut your balls off," she said, somehow managing to be scarier than the villains he faced as a part of his daily routine.

Peter would have canceled his plan of abandoning her even if he had a desire to do so. Thankfully, he had no such intention, so he brought his tongue to her clit once again, earning a new set of pleasure filled cries. He brought his hands over her legs, exploring her inner thighs for additional boosters, an expedition that paid of nicely a second later, when she let out a moan so loud that she had to press both of her hands over her lips to stifle it even a bit. She wasn't very successful, not when her cries were loud enough to shatter windows.

Again, it didn't take long for her to reach another climax, cutting her legs under her suddenly that only his immediate action of taking her into a bridal hold. "It was amazing," Liz murmured in a dazed slumber. "I give up, you win."

"I'm afraid I can't accept that, Lizzy," he said even as he walked closer to the edge of the building. "What if you change your mind tomorrow and try to declare some kind of draw by technicality. No, we said three, and you're going to get three." He had arrived at the edge of the building, the large opening separated only by a thick iron bar. He let her feet to touch to the ground, and her hand instantly grabbed the iron that hung on the edge of the building to balance herself, unknowingly taking the position Peter wanted all along.

He pushed inside her, this time not even bothering to letting her adapt, knowing she was already wet and loose enough from the earlier rounds. She moaned once more, this time not even bothering to contain her voice. "I would have to try to make less noise if I were you, you never know when a passerby could notice your amazing tits, dangling for their voyeur eyes."

That proved enough to cut off her noise completely, though the way she clamped around his girth made him sure that he wasn't the only one that was finding the situation arousing. Too enjoyable, even, enough to make him feel like the bet was actually at risk. But he took a glance at her face, and decided there was no need for concern. She looked as drunk as an unmarried woman in her best friend's wedding, and that was without touching one drop of alcohol.

Then, she tightened one last time, her warmth covering him tight enough to push her to the edge in a surprise counterattack. Thankfully, the bet was already won, and he was free to paint her dress white in a way that was accessible to males only., turning her dress into a mess that no dry cleaning could fix. Lucky that he had come across a windfall that would allow him to survive a shopping trip, even with a high-maintenance girl like Liz.

Still, that was enough to push Liz off the count. She stumbled once more, unbalanced like a punch-drunk boxer. Thankfully, she managed enough presence of mind to hug him as he fixed her dress then returned to the corridors. He arrived at his motorcycle without anyone noticing, avoiding any prospect of danger with his enhanced senses.

"Hold tight," he said, and her arms wrapped around his body. Thankfully, the walk helped her to awaken enough that he could trust her not to fall off. The ride passed silent, with both of them enjoying the sensation of the night air on their faces. Several minutes later, they were in front of Liz's house.

"It's good that we made that bet," Liz murmured as she dismounted his bike in front of her house. "I hate to admit that I don't think I can satisfy you in a regular manner if you could perform even a fraction of it regularly." Peter felt a silly smile spread across his face, though it wasn't surprising. He doubted that there was a hot-blooded male that could stand unaffected off that particular sentence. Liz pinched him, trying to look stern, a lost cause after the rollercoaster of pleasure she had ridden. "Don't be smug, nobody likes a bragger."

"Should have assumed that you won't invite me inside then."

"God no," Liz said with a laugh. "I would have if it was Friday, but tomorrow is school, and I need to be able to walk. It would be hard to do as it is."

Peter smiled softly, then leaned for a kiss, a soft, but lingering one. "Have a good night, Lizzy," he said.

She pinched him once more, then turned and walked towards the door, swinging her lips with each step. "See you tomorrow, stallion," she said, and disappeared on the doorway.

Peter returned to his bike, a smile persistent on his face. It was even lucky for the criminals, who ended up meeting with Spider-man during his late-night patrol, just to end up wrapped in web and receiving a stern talking, with almost no punching involved.

* * *

However, Jason wasn't as lucky as those petty criminals, a fact he learned during the lunch break. Peter was walking through the corridors, trying to find Gwen. He wanted to talk with her before the issue between them festered to the point of amputation. He found her after a while, but with an annoying detail. Jason was there as well, strutting like a peacock as he tried to flirt with her, repeatedly squeezing his muscles to look bigger to compensate for yesterday's humiliation.

Peter would have left her to be if she looked even slightly into him instead of watching both ends of the corridor, searching for something specific. When she saw Peter, she tried to smile in a cruel manner, but it was a foreign expression to her beautiful lips, not to mention the pain and jealousy burning her eyes. Still, Peter was sure before yesterday, he would have no attempt to prevent her, and would climb on top of to a building to sulk as Spider-man. But not now, not after he realized how much he screwed of his own life by fearing to act. He had no intention staying passively as life tortured him.

So, he just walked behind Jason, who was leaning towards Gwen's lips as she closed her eyes, though her expression told him that she was not enjoying the moment, which made it even easier for him to break it. He grabbed Jason's hair and pulled him away, making him cry in shock. "What do you want, squirt," he managed to say, though the intimidation factor was sadly lacking with the exact pose he was sporting. Also, Peter could see his legs were trembling. Not surprising, considering he was not feeling particularly accepting towards him, and his anger, though hard to arouse, was something to be scared, as some of the more undiscriminating criminals learned to their shock and pain.

Peter said nothing, just looked at him blankly for a second before slamming his fist to the locker. He made sure to apply just a small fraction of his power, but even that was enough to leave a sizable dent in the locker as the sound rang in the corridor. Jason turned, noticed at the imprint, his eyes growing in shock with the realization that the nerd they were teasing was much more dangerous than they assumed. He scampered away, and Peter let him be. He had more important things to focus.

He turned his face towards Gwen, who was looking at him with anger, yet he could detect hints of arousal coloring the edges. "What are you doing, Peter?" she asked pleadingly. "What happened to you?"

"Follow me," he said and started walking, not even bothering to check whether she was following him. Not that he needed when he could easily hear her hesitant footsteps against the backdrop of the school, whispers once again a storm against his unusual behavior. It didn't matter to him, the only thing that mattered was Gwen's footsteps, obediently following him towards the gym, a place that would be empty in that particular moment.

"Why we are here, Peter," she said with an angry tone, closing the door behind her. Peter stepped in front of her as soon as the door was closed, and pushed her against the wall that ended next to the door. She opened her mouth to protest, but he leaned forward, locking off her protest. Despite being caught flat-footed, her lips started to answer him in passion, her objections taking the backseat.

Still, for all the passion, he wasn't exactly surprised when a slap rang on his cheek as soon as he pulled away, her anger prominent once more. But it didn't bother Peter, because her anger was tainted with desire and longing. "That, I deserved," he chuckled darkly before leaning for another kiss.

It caught her with surprise, unable to believe another kiss was following her slap. Her mouth opened in response to spew a response, but Peter decided to use the opportunity provided to slip a tongue inside her mouth, compounding her shock as he plundered her mouth. Only after a lingering kiss where she stayed much more passive Peter pulled back. Unsurprisingly, another slap followed. "This one, you'll pay later," Peter said, his smile telling that the payment would be extracted in a unique was enjoyable for both. Stunned under his dark, loaded smile, Gwen was no different than a butterfly caught in a spider's web, watching spellbound as the spider walked around her lazily, knowing that his prey lacked the ability to escape.

"How dare-" she started, only to get silenced by a finger, sealing her lips.

"I dare, Gwen, because I dare. There is no deeper meaning to it. I'm bored from waiting for the whims of the life while waiting passively, so I decided to change. As you can attest, it's working perfectly." He pulled back to see whether she would be able to say anything, but no words left her mouth. "Anyway," he added. "We can talk about it at seven, when I pick you up for our date."

With that, he turned and started walking away. "Arrogant asshole," Gwen tried to shout at him, her voice trembling with confusion.

Peter turned, a much darker smile on his lips. "Good reminder," he said as he walked towards her once more, with her frozen under his attention. "I almost forget about your misguided attempt at making me jealous." He leaned towards her shoulder, and pushed the collar of her t-shirt to the side, revealing her pale, glistening skin. He leaned, pressed his lips to the surface, enjoying the way she trembled under his touch. Then, he bit her, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave a mark behind. She gasped, and he smiled. "Just to remind you that you are mine," he said his last words before turning and leaving the room.

* * *

Rest of the school passed without any event. It seemed that Flash and his buddies either learned their lesson, or hadn't been able to gather enough courage for a second round. He thought about searching Liz, but decided otherwise. It would be much more efficient to talk her after he concluded his date with Gwen. Instead, he stayed silent on the lessons, paying the minimal attention while he doodled some designs. It had occurred him that limiting himself to his web-shooters was a dangerous oversight, and having a wider range of items would increase his utility, and allow him to respond a wider variety of situations. Such as the web grenade he was currently busy with.

Soon, the lessons ended, and Peter left the school on his bike, people's attention on him once again as they tried to process the sudden shift in the school hierarchy. Peter could see that it was confusing for them, as he wasn't acting in line with their expectations.

He kept himself busy in his garage other than a quick patrol around the neighborhood, trying to assemble the grenade he had come up with during the class, so when the time for his date rolled in, he had several prototypes ready to be used. He was at Gwen's building at exactly seven, and he sent her a message. 'Be down in five, or I'll come to pick you up.' He received no response, but he didn't care. He was perfectly capable of entering the building to make the second part of his message the reality.

It was two past seven when Gwen appeared in the entrance of the building, wearing loose jeans a sweater., her hair carelessly gathered behind in a single pile. Peter held back a smile. On the surface, it seemed like she picked her clothes in a hurry, showing just how unimportant the date in her eyes, all while somehow managing to look good. However, she didn't know that Peter could pick out details unseen to the normal eye, betraying the hour she spent on that careless natural look.

"Are you ready," Peter said with a smile.

"I'm," she said, her voice genuinely angry even as she took her seat behind him. "Let's finish this farce, so that I could go never talking with you in my life."

"Good," Peter said, passing the helmet to her. "Hold tight," he said just before cranking up the engine, giving the start of a breathtaking journey through the streets of New York.

* * *

 **Author notes: I hope everyone enjoyed the story.**

 **For the ones that are interested, I have also started a Wattpad page for my original stories. The first one is already up. An Unusual Revenge, by Dirk Grey. To find it, you can paste this number after the wattpad/ as well:** **581024444.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Slow down!" Gwen shouted in panic as Peter traversed the streets of New York in a manner that would be deadly for anyone without enhanced reflexes supported by a finely tuned supernatural danger sense. Peter ignored her panicked shouts as he continued swerving between the cars. He wasn't worried about being caught by the police. His endless patrols had taught him which streets police frequented, and which streets were free of their presence.

Still, he knew Gwen enough to that she wasn't actually afraid, merely just shocked. His observation was proven by the passing of the minutes, where her shouts lessened to the point of disappearance, though her arms continued to hold him tight. Soon, what started as a horror ride for her turned into a roller-coaster ride. Exciting enough to cut your breath, but without the mind-numbing fear of certain death. Still, it was the confirmation that she wasn't just a pretty wallflower.

Peter continued driving for more than half-an-hour, speaking impossible thanks to the loud presence of the wind and the helmets, until Peter stopped the bike in an abandoned park. It looked a bit decrepit, and definitely unsafe, but it was still early for real criminals to be out. He wanted to be able to speak with her without anyone else around, allowing her to shout at him if she was inclined.

"So, Peter," Gwen said as she walked to him, looking with serious eyes. "You are the one that invited me here, so I assume you have something to say. Say it."

Peter decided to start with a simple test, to see if the attraction between them was real, or just an illusion that would flutter away under the touch of the reality. Without uttering a word, he leaned and captured her lips. He was satisfied to notice that after a momentary shock, Gwen started answering his kiss, her arms caressing his back. "I hate this new you," she whispered, even as she pushed her fingers through his hair, pulling him tighter. Of course, Peter could have pointed out that caresses and kisses weren't the best way of conducting hatred, but he wasn't a complete idiot, so he just shut up, enjoying her touches as he listened her spilling her guts. "You're so rude and smug, and acting like I'm about to fold for you just because you look at me with this smoldering eyes…" She started leaning forward, only to interrupted by his phone ringing. "Another mystery disappearance, Peter," she said, her voice suddenly bitter. "Go ahead, it's probably more important than our date anyways."

Peter checked up his phone, only to see a coded alert from his spy application. He had built it over police database, sending him alert before they were on the media. This time, it was once again Black Cat, seen exiting a jewelry store. He was about to inform Gwen that she was right, that he needed to go once again, when it clicked in his mind. He didn't have to. Yes, he had a power, and with it came the responsibility. But it wasn't his responsibility to follow every two-bit thief across the city when there were no lives in danger. Especially not with the level of respect he was receiving in response. "Don't worry, nothing important," Peter said as he captured her lips, her expression brightening for a second before they melted together.

They stood still, sharing a long, drawn-out kiss as if trying to ward off the chill of the night when they were interrupted once again as if fate was determined not to give them any time, this time through a loud whistle. They separated, only to see a ragtag group of men stepping out of the woods, some carrying iron bars, others brandishing knives. "Nice ride," said the leader, or so Peter assumed, as he was the biggest guy with the most tattoos, which usually worked like that. "I think this is our lucky day, don't you think guys," he said after turning to his group, receiving a cheering applause. "Why don't you disappear and leave us to our fun. We'll drop it in an alley when we had our fun, and you can take it back if you like used goods." He stopped, dragging his gaze over Gwen's body, indicating that it wasn't his bike that he was referring as the ride. "We'll probably get bored in a couple of weeks," he added.

"At least a month, boss," the second added with a creepy laugh. "This ride doesn't seem like a boring one. I'm sure she'll be like a dream,"

"Let's go, Peter," Gwen said in a panic. "A bike is not that important."

Peter wasn't surprised to see Gwen misunderstood what the men were saying. Despite being a commissioner's daughter, or maybe because of it, she had little exposure to the real underbelly of the city, and as a result, was relatively naive. He turned partly towards her even as he stepped between her and the group.

He would have liked to use his usual trick of disappearing, only for 'spider-man' appear at the last second, but there were two problems. First, he already used that trick with Gwen several times. Most of them were high impact villain assaults, so it made sense for Spider-man to appear quickly. It was not so in this context. if he tried that in here, there was a high chance Gwen would figure out his identity.

Still, it paled against the reason he had. He had been expecting to have sex when he started preparing for the date, so he neglected to wear his costume under his clothes. Running away, changing, and coming back was a significant amount of time, a block that he wasn't willing to leave Gwen in the hands of a bunch of rapists, which meant this time, Peter would have to clean his own mess.

He looked into her eyes. "Gwen, it's not the bike they are referring to," he said. Gwen's face contorted in a moment's confusion, which rapidly turned into horror. "Look," he said, capturing her gaze into his eyes, his usual mannerism nowhere to be found. "Do you know how to drive a bike," he said hopefully, only to receive a negative shake.

The first plan was out, he realized. "Then, I need for you to run away without looking back," he said. "I'll make sure that they don't follow you, and with you gone, there'll be no reason for them to harm me. Understood?" Peter knew he was spewing bullshit, but he hoped that Gwen was shocked enough not to realize the ridiculousness of his statement. And with her gone, he would be free to deal with them easily.

Which was why he was really glad that Gwen didn't try to insist on staying with him or trying to pull him with her. She just turned and started running, not even bothering to get the bike. The leader did a motion and one of the smaller guys started running after her. Peter did nothing, just reached for his helmet. "What, tough guy, scared to run," one of the members hanging at the edge of the group asked, his tone gleeful.

Peter didn't do anything until the runner was just a few meters away from him, and Gwen disappeared at the corner. Then, without any warning, he threw the helmet at the runner, which connected with his head with a loud crack, knocking him off. "Seven," Peter said, an unsettling smile on his lips.

"The squirt thinks himself as a white knight," the leader said with another laugh, but Peter could see his expression was changed. Before, he was just a nuisance they were using to pass time, but now, he had challenged the gang physically. A challenge, as the leader, he couldn't let go unanswered. "Go teach him the error of his ways, boys. Nobody touches one of us and gets away without a hospital stay," he said, and three of them separated from the group, walking towards him, waving their weapons. Still, there was no panic in their movements, nor any hurry. It was one against three, after all.

Once again, Peter did nothing until the closest one was just a meter away, then exploded into action. His spider-sense was tingling, but it wasn't the immediate danger. He decided to focus on that after he handled the gang. He stepped into the weapon range of the first one, but before he could even react, Peter's fist found his solar plexus, pulling him off the count. "Six," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion. The second one proved quicker, swinging his club behind Peter, hard enough to crack a normal man's skull, but it was trivial to notice even without his danger sense. He took a step to the side, then followed up with a round kick. "Five." The third one, frozen by indecision after seeing two of his friends going down, tried to run away, but Peter caught him with a kick to the leg, his own momentum handling the rest. His head hit to the ground, leaving him unconscious. "Four."

"We have a tough boy in our midst," the leader said with a laugh, but his face told another story, a story of fear and panic. But retreat was not an option anymore. He had foolishly challenged an unknown, an unknown that hit harder than he expected. He either won, or his days as the leader was over.

The leader stepped forward, the other three coming from the sides. "Three, two, one…" Peter whispered in the same calm tone, one that promised punishment. All gang was down to count, all except the leader. Peter took a step towards him, and leader pulled back, throwing his knife away in a motion of surrender.

In another situation, Peter would probably accept his surrender, quipping cheerfully to undercut the situation. But forgiveness was quite hard against a man who had declared his intention to rape your girlfriend for weeks just a moment ago. Instead, Peter walked towards him, dodged a punch, and smashed his knee under his foot, hearing a satisfying crunch spreading to the opening. "Half," he said, his voice not flat for once, instead tainted with satisfaction. Then he punched the man for the one last time, sending him unconscious. "And zero…" he whispered, turning back.

Only to come face to face with Gwen, who was watching what just happened in a slacked jaw. "Peter," she exclaimed and run towards him, hugging him with tears in her eyes. It was better than the worst case, where she tried to blame him for excessive force or something similarly stupid, of course, but Peter had a feeling his secret was outed. He was still going to try to convince her otherwise, but he wasn't very hopeful. Gwen was smart. He gently led her towards the bike as her tears spilled from her eyes. "What was that?" she managed to ask when Peter stopped to pick the helmet that he weaponized at the beginning.

"Not now," Peter said as he presented the other helmet to her, then started the bike.

"But that wasn't nor-" she started, only for Peter to silence her. He could have just warned her to be silent, of course, but a quick peck was more fun, even if it turned into a longer kiss where their tongues battled, both using the moment to replace the adrenaline with kinder hormones.

"We'll speak it later," Peter said, and waited until Gwen's arms were around him once more, then started the bike. The return journey was slower, but Gwen's arms were tighter around his chest. Peter said nothing, knowing it was the aftereffect of the shock, trying to make sure he was there. Soon, they were at a relatively empty part of the coast. Too crowded for a sexual encounter, but a good place for an explanation.

Peter stopped the bike and dismounted, his mind churning with the variations of the lies he could tell her to convince it was just a normal encounter. She looked at his face, calm and collected despite the tear tracks. "I started learning karate?" Peter said jokingly,

"Nice try," Gwen said, but at least a laugh followed her statement, which was a positive. "What was that, Peter?" she asked, her tone serious. "It was like you were a different person, faster, stronger." Peter shrugged, not knowing what else to say, also curious that whether she could connect the dots, and how long it was going to take. "But I don't understand," she said, frustrated. "If you are this strong, why are you not helping people. Whenever something happened, you are always running away giving a stupid excuse, leaving others to face it. I can't remember how many times you have deserted me to danger. What if I wasn't lucky, what if Spider-man hadn't been around to save… me… every… fucking… time…" she said, her explanation petering out as a sudden realization invaded her face.

"Upps," Peter said, smiling weakly, knowing that his secret was out. Still, he shrugged a moment later, it was a miracle that he wasn't outed before, with two-thirds of their dates cutting short due to his rotten luck, either with the appearance of a villain, or interruption of a plain criminal, forcing his presence to be replaced with Spider-man.

"I can't believe I hadn't seen it before," Gwen murmured in shock. "How many times it happened I don't even know, you disappearing as soon as the danger hits, and Spider-man appearing less than a minute later."

"I don't know," Peter answered. "Twenty, thirty? I stopped counting after a while. With my luck, it's pretty much pointless."

"But still-" Gwen said, but Peter decided it was enough discussion. Now that she knew, at least he could extract his reward, and sealed her explanation with his lips, his tongue darting into her mouth. Gwen replied with a passion that was a volcano to her earlier fire. It made sense, as Peter was aware of Gwen's not so small crush to Spider-man, a natural progression of all those deadly situations he was present to save her. And while he was a hero, he wasn't stupidly selfless enough to enjoy the delicious fruits of his own success.

"You know you can't tell to anyone, right?" Peter whispered.

"But-" Gwen said, only to be silenced with Peter's finger.

"No, Gwen. That's not negotiable. I had screwed more than one deal of mob, not to mention the costumed crazies I fight against every day. I can't risk them coming after Aunt May, not to mention it would make you as a target as one of my girlfriends."

"I und-," she started, only to stop in a shift of mood. "Hold on, mister, what the hell are you talking about, one of your girlfriends!"

Peter's mind worked quicker than it ever did. He didn't need the warning from the Spider-sense to realize mishandling it would end up hurting him badly. "It's about my powers," he said. "One of the side effects is the increased libido, and I'm afraid that it'll be too physically overwhelming for you." Peter knew he was bullshitting, while his stamina had received a huge increase, it didn't translate into a libido boost. Of course, Gwen wasn't aware of that, and Peter decided it was a good excuse to spew.

"But," Gwen started, then stopped, blushing. "I'm more than enough to satisfy you. I don't need that slut Liz's help, not that she would ever get convinced for it."

Peter smiled sheepishly. "Well, I might have already convinced her about that particular detail."

Gwen's face took a hurt expression, and a slap rang on the opening. The reason, Peter only understood after her next words. "I can't believe you told your secret to that slut before me!"

"Calm down, girl," he said, grabbing her arms to prevent a follow-up slap. "She doesn't know about my identity."

"How did you convince her then?"

"I made a bet with her," Peter said, hoping to avoid the explanation, but Gwen's face allowed no leeway. Peter decided to be direct. "I made a bet with her, claiming that she couldn't make me cum before I make her orgasm three times, and I won."

Gwen's eyes were momentarily glazed. "Three, you say," she murmured, though she had trouble hiding her hurt expression. "Hah, I knew that slut was incompetent, putting out for steroid filled football players probably gave her an inflated sense of her skill."

Peter smartly shut up, because he knew for a fact Gwen was still a virgin, but only an idiot would call attention to that fact. "So, you're confident that you can win that bet."

"Of course I'm," she said automatically before she realized what she just said, her face drowning in crimson in the aftermath.

"Good," Peter said. "I know for a fact that you don't have any other plans for the night, so why don't you send a message to your father, saying you're going to have a slumber party in a friend."

"But I can't lie to my father," Gwen answered, aghast.

"It's not a lie, as there will be slumber involved." He stopped for a second, then corrected himself. "Well, probably," he said, then let out his gaze tracing her body. "On the second thought, I agree, it'll be a lie, there won't be any slumber involved, at least not before the dusk." He chuckled as he watched her blush getting brighter with each correction. "Still, it's your choice, but I promise, it'll be a night to remember…"

She said nothing, but pulled her phone and called her father, explained that she decided to stay a friend for girls' night, followed by another brief call to the said friend just in case her father decided to check. Peter said nothing, just played with his phone and set up a hotel reservation, then sending Aunt May a message saying he was going to stay with a friend. She tried to counter with something about a blind date, but Peter flat out rejected. Though, his aunt still managed to convince him to merely postpone to the next day instead of ditching it completely. He agreed, but only because he didn't have much time to argue. He didn't want to give Gwen too much time to rethink what she had just agreed on.

"Hop on," he said after another brief, yet heated, battle of tongues, and they joined to the chaos of the roads once more…


	4. Chapter 4

"Peter, what are we doing here," Gwen said with shock as she glanced the fancy building they were entering, her eyes wide.

He turned to her with a teasing expression on his face. "I don't need to explain birds and the bees to you, do I?"

"Not that, jerk," Gwen answered with a slap to his arm, but his comment also earned a laugh that drained a part of her stress, so Peter counted it as a victory. "What are we doing in Four Seasons? This place is ridiculously expensive."

"We're here for our special date," he answered even as he sneaked his arm behind her and stoke a kiss on her cheek. Before she could say anything, they were at the reception, and Peter pushed his ID to the table, and the receptionist quickly worked on it while Gwen was busy trying not to faint under his subtle caresses, unseen behind the counter.

"Mr. Parker, the honeymoon suite is ready for you," the receptionist said with a huge smile reserved to the clients who were willing to pay a small fortune for a night's decadence. A financial commitment Peter wouldn't dare to enter a few days ago.

"Honeymoon suite?" Gwen asked in surprise after they were in the elevator.

"You deserve it," Peter said with a serious expression, then initiated another kiss. The elevator ride passed silent, other than occasional moans as Peter surveyed her body for sensitive spots. When the elevator ride was complete, Peter picked her up in a bridal hold and carried her to the room, with her giggling every step of the way, only to stop when Peter threw her on the rose-petal-covered bed and pinned her with his smoldering gaze. She fell silent, before whispering one very unwelcome word. "Stop." Peter did, despite not liking it one bit. The last thing he needed was Gwen getting cold feet at the last moment especially after he had spent all that money for the room, but no matter how unwelcome, no meant no.

But her next words, combined with her enthusiastic yet panicked expression was enough to put his fears to rest. "I need to prepare first," she said, her voice burning with a matching arousal, mixed with shyness.

"Of course, Gwen," he said, leaning down for one last kiss before pulling back with a smile. Gwen moved to the suite's bathroom, and Peter took a quick shower in the second one. Money might not buy happiness, Peter decided, but it could definitely buy convenience.

He was already sitting on the bed with only a towel around his waist, a sensual music playing in the background, when the lights dimmed. He raised his head in time to see Gwen stepping out of the bedroom, the view mystique. A few seconds passed in silence. Too silent, he noticed a while later, realizing that he had forgotten to breathe as he tried to devour the sight in front of him. Gwen stood in front of the bed, wearing nothing but a smile, her beauty magical under the cover of the flickering lights.

"Are you ready, Peter," she whispered. Peter just nodded, his tongue tied as he tried the process Gwen's naked glory. She stepped forward, trying to look confident, though Peter could see a bit of tremble, signaling that she was feeling jittery for their first time. Still, he didn't have much time considering that, as Gwen stepped on the bed, crawled towards him on her knees, and pulled the towel off with a hungry move. "Oh, my," she murmured as her gaze fell onto his shaft, rapidly growing thanks to her presence. And growing, and growing… "Is it supposed to be that big," she murmured in shock as she absentmindedly grabbed the base, her fingers not connecting.

Peter chuckled. "Let's just say I'm a lucky man in more than one way."

"I see," Gwen said, dragging her fingers on his shaft with a slightly dazed look. Apparently, Liz was right on that topic, he realized, barely holding back a chuckle. Every woman was a size queen.

"Why don't you give me a kiss," Peter said, calling her closer. She climbed into his lap, close enough that his shaft was pressing against her stomach, then their lips were connected in a lingering kiss. It didn't take long before Gwen's hand found his shaft, slowly exploring its expanse even as their kiss deepened even further. Peter had to admit, it was a much better kiss than the one he shared with Liz. It wasn't that Liz was unskilled. From a technical viewpoint, she was a much better kisser than Gwen, but with Gwen, there was an undeniable connection, amplifying the pleasure granted by her awkward attempts to dominate the kiss. The one he shared with Liz was pure passion. Enjoyable without a doubt, but pale against the avalanche of emotion Gwen's lips triggered.

The kiss lingered, so does her soft attention. Soon, her hips started moving, adding her core to the massage she was delivering across his length, slowly building up his desire, begging him to push her down and have his way with her like he did with Liz. But he held himself back, smart enough to realize that Liz and Gwen were different with the type of attention they required. So, instead of flipping her aggressively into a position conducive for rapid penetration, he wrapped his arms around her until she was in his tight envelope, then slowly turned, like they were engaged in a dance of tango. In a way, they were, wrapped in the purest version of the erotic dance.

Then, Peter pulled back, examining the view. He let his eyes devour the picture, the ruby color of the rose petals clashing with her pale skin, the light soft enough for a dream. He examined her long, smooth legs, kept in shape with hours of exercise, her untouched core glistening with anticipation, her globes rising repeatedly with aroused breathing. "You're beautiful," he murmured as he drank the beauty that lay in front of him. She looked at him with desire in her eyes, overcome with emotion, unable to utter a word.

Peter leaned forward once more until his lips hovering above hers. This time, however, instead of delving deeper into the kiss, he let his lips touch hers in a glancing caress before moving down, leaving the ghost of a touch on her chin, tracing the path her delicate neck outlined. His tongue darted out when he was hovering above her breasts, and started drawing a spiral, from fire, if her sudden moans were any indicator, starting from the border, invading her territory layer by layer until her nipple was between his teeth. He squeezed softly, earning a shocked gasp of her.

"Peter, that feels amazing," she moaned, informing him that he was on the right path. Technically, it wasn't needed, his power providing him with a real-time report, but such an enthusiastic confirmation never hurt.

His lips continued their journey, traversing her flat stomach, the skin burning with desire under his touch, and reached her perfectly shaped folds. His tongue involved in the massage once more, he drew the edges with lingering kisses, then his tongue started circling her most sensitive spot. Her cries rose in response. For a moment, Peter thought about slowing down until he made her beg for her release, but then he decided otherwise, as he had pushed her enough for last two days, and she deserved a reward. He quickened his beatings, and soon, Gwen was enjoying her orgasm, her legs trying to squeeze his torso hard enough to make him glad for his increased resistance.

"Did you enjoy your appetizer," Peter said as he climbed up again, caressing her hair gently as she tried to recover herself from the earlier exertion.

"It was amazing," she murmured, then stopped with an expression of shock on her face. "That was just an appetizer? But… It felt…" Peter let her explanation die out as he let his hands a free access to her body, teasing as appropriate in order to arouse her from her daze. Soon his fingers found her core, softly probing her entrance while checking to see if she had any objection.

She had not, not when she was busy fending the effects of his lips as they explored her neck in detail. "Of course, that was just an appetizer, my blond witch," he said, pulling back, only to catch her sight with his eyes. "Are you ready for the main event?"

Peter would have been disappointed if he had expected any fear or doubt in her part, but since he wasn't, he rewarded her with another smoldering kiss as he took a position above her, aligning his shaft with her entrance. For a moment, he was struck with the ridiculous romanticism of the moment, in a luxurious honeymoon suite, on a bed covered with rose petals, their lips locked in a sensitive kiss, and he was about to take her first time in a missionary position. A huge gap with his initial plan, which was making her angry and jealous enough that she fucked him in the park just to prove a point. Different, but definitely superior, if only he hadn't revealed his identity in the process as well…

He felt Gwen's legs settling around his waist, her fingers raking his back. "Hurry up, my spider," she moaned. "Don't keep me waiting." Peter decided to follow her advice, after all, she deserved more than his full attention at the moment, burning under him like a horny angel which looked forward to her fall from grace.

"Hold tight," Peter whispered and captured her lips as he started to slid inside her, extremely tight despite the teasing she received earlier. He didn't hurry up, knowing it wouldn't be welcome on their first night. It wasn't a bother since he had many other nights to properly educate her about rougher, passion-filled side of sex. This one was just a beginning.

Gwen gasped in a moment's pain, and Peter's waist stopped as he focused solely on the kiss instead. It took a while for her to properly adapt his girth, a moment he leveraged to properly stain her lips and cover her breasts with his mark. Then, she pulled off the kiss, nodding with a strained smile. Peter started pushing, her strained moans the best music he had ever heard. Minutes passed, as more and more of his shaft started disappearing inside, his pace picking up. Gwen's moans mirrored his rhythm, ringing louder and louder under his assault.

Peter could sense another climax was just around the corner, so he pulled out of the kiss. "Gwendolyne Stacy," he said with a serious tone. "You are mine!"

"I am yours, Peter Parker," she whispered back in a voice drowned in pleasure. "I'm yours!" she repeated, this time mixing into cries as the orgasm finally hit her, leaving her exhausted in its aftermath. "I love you, Peter," she murmured, as her arms squeezed around him, though Peter could feel the exhaustion in her body, evidenced by her eyes closing, followed by a soft, unconscious breathing.

"Damn it," Peter murmured, realizing the boost he received to his stamina and his sexual prowess had a drawback, one impossible to complain to other people, not without coming as a braggart, at least. Still, it didn't change the fact that once again, he was overcharged with no release while his partner was collapsed in exhaustion.

He decided to take a patrol, as there was no way he could ever fall asleep with her naked body pressing next to his, and he was sure that she wouldn't wake up, not after all the adrenaline and revelations she had experienced.

His mind turned to her last whisper as he swung between the buildings of New York. Her whisper, proclaiming love and devotion. It raised an interesting question, did he love her back. A few days ago, he would say yes, but the last few days allowed him to develop another perspective, making him question whether what he was feeling love or just lust. He wanted her next to him, not just for his bed, but other parts of his life as well. However, he still wanted to make Liz squeal under him with a merciless fucking. Moreover, he could too easily imagine himself in a huge bed, filled to the brim with naked women, some known, some faceless. What did it say for the intensity of his feelings if he could imagine himself with other women this easily?

It wasn't the kind of emotional angst he was expecting to find himself after he had finally managed to seduce Gwen. Which was why he was actually glad when he heard the gunshots ringing on the rooftops. He changed his direction, and a few seconds later, he was watching an interesting sight. Four gunmen with automatic weapons were attacking a very familiar figure, Black Cat, covering behind a pile of broken bricks, trying to avoid the gunfire, waiting for an opening to escape. One she didn't look like she was about to get, as the men attacking to her was true professionals, reloading in turn and pacing themselves, not giving Black Cat the opening she needed.

"Come out if you don't want to die," one of the gunmen shouted. "You've done a big mistake crossing Kingpin, but he's not without mercy. He'll come with a way to compensate his losses that don't require your death." From the creepy smile on his face, Peter imagined none of those ways would be fun for her, and her expression told him that she was perfectly aware of it as well. But she was still considering it, after all, death was final, and whatever twisted scheme Kingpin had come up with, was not.

Peter had no intention of allowing such a despicable event to occur. Not only he had shared an interesting rivalry with her, which qualified her as a friend, but also, he had no intention of allowing Kingpin to acquire a pawn as skilled as her. He was enough trouble with his incompetent henchmen. Not to mention that such a beauty would be wasted in the hands of a bumbling fatso.

He decided it was a good opportunity to test his new web-grenade, and swung one to the center of the group. The way their eyes grew as the grenade tumbled on the middle indicated surprise. Even more interestingly, the way they threw themselves on the ground, feet aligned towards the grenade told him that they were ex-military, likely special forces. Only training would bring such an instinctual response against the imminent threat. Just another evidence of Kingpin's dirty reach.

It was fun to watch their expression shift into elation after the grenade went off, only to cover them in a cover of webbing instead of filling them with heated pieces of sharapnel. A distinct aroma spreading from them told him that the fear of death managed to overcome their bodily control. An enhanced sense of smell wasn't always a bonus. "Don't forget to use the bathroom before trying to kill people, guys, it's just rude," he quipped as he swung on the opening, happy that his new invention was mostly a success. He needed to tweak a bit of course, mostly the blast radius and consistency, but still, a promising result for the first attempt.

"Thanks, Spider," Black Cat said as she stepped out of her cover, an unsettled expression on her face, a situation that she was trying to make light with her words. "I could have handled them, of course, but still, thanks for the help." Peter knew that she was trying to play off the situation, but he didn't call her on that. Criminal as she was, the skin-tight leather suit she was wearing, complete with the deep cleavage went a long way toward earning points in his horny state. Especially since he had noticed that her cleavage hadn't been that deep while she was under the assault, meaning it was a beauty present just for his eyes. "How could I repay you," she added, deliberately leaning towards to expose her cleavage even further.

Normally, Peter would have blown her off, but it seemed like an especially annoying prospect, with his arousal at a peak after being blue-balled -for a very loose interpretation of it, considering the girls fell unconscious under his assault- in two nights in a row. Two nights that he spent without a release after full-blown sex. He decided to take her on her offer. But he was going to deliver it his own way. She had been teasing him for months. He was curious how she was going to react to her own medicine.

Without saying anything, he created another web to swing, dashed towards her, and wrapped his arm around his waist, pressing her body tight on his, and jumped. "Oh my, how forward of you," she whispered directly into his ear, her tone most seductive ever. Then, she tried to caress his stomach, only to hit a very familiar presence. "Is this for me, Spider, how thoughtful," she gasped. Peter knew that she was normally more conservative with her flirting, but the near-death experience, combined with his forward behavior, had made her more forward.

Peter said nothing until they arrived another rooftop, one that couldn't be seen from the surrounding buildings, a fact that Black Cat realized as well. "You're quite interesting tonight, Spider. Did something interesting happened?" she whispered as she took a few steps away from him, her leather-clad ass bouncing with her every step, too provoking to be nothing but intentional.

Peter said nothing but sent four streams of web towards her, one for each limb. Surprised with the sudden turn of events, she was unable to react, and soon, she was immobilized, her arms and legs parted eagle, ready to serve his desires.

* * *

 **Author notes: Here is another chapter. Hope everyone enjoyed it. And just a reminder, you can find my original work in my P/at/reon page, Dirk Grey. And comments are always welcome, be it negative or positive.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Spider, stop joking," she said, trying to sound lighthearted, but Peter could easily detect the worry underneath. "What's with the webs all of a sudden? You're not going to give me to the police, right? After all, they were the ones that attacked me. I'm completely innocent."

"You're innocent?" Peter said softly, mockingly, as he stood behind her, his breath caressing her neck through her white mane, causing a shiver to pass over her skin.

"Well," she said in re-approach. "I was stealing from another criminal this time, doesn't it count for anything? It's practically a good deed."

"I should call the police and tell them your location," he whispered into her ear, and she stiffened. "But, I fear that it would be a pity for a beauty like you. I don't want to imagine what would happen to you in prison… What to do?"

"You can always set me free," she offered.

"Maybe," Peter murmured. "But then how are you going to learn your lesson…"

"You can punish me yourself," she whispered, the seductress back in full force.

Peter smiled, a hungry smile that she remained unaware of because he was still behind her. "Not a bad idea," he whispered, observing her excitement rising. "But I fear that you cannot handle my punishment."

"Look who got an inflated sense of self-confidence," she countered, feeling confident without the threat of police not hanging on her head. "I can handle anything you can dish, Spider-Boy."

Peter said nothing but just walked in front of her. For a moment, he stood in front of her, examining her face, her eyes diluted in excitement, her lips parted slightly to allow her quickened breathing. He had been aware that she was attracted to him, but he always held back, not wanting to compromise himself with a relationship with a criminal.

Not a problem with his new attitude in life, he decided as he took a hold of her zipper that cut across her torso, slowly dragging down, every silent click of the zipper echoing off the walls, getting louder. For a moment, neither said anything, Peter because he chose to stay silent, and she was busy hyperventilating with excitement. He smiled, a smile that was colored with a touch of surprise. He had known that Black Cat had a crush on him, but he hadn't thought it to be a level that would push her this far just by a touch. "If you are this confident," he said, dragging his words in a replication of his treatment of her zipper. "Why don't we spice things up with a small bet."

"Let's hear it," she said, her caution trying to reign in her excitement, but with limited success.

"I'll have one hour, one hour that I wouldn't touch you. No skin to skin contact at all, and I'll leave you a wrecked mess, begging for more. If I can't, I let you free, no questions asked. If I can, I'll have one night with you. One night that I'll visit you in your bed unannounced, and will make you my toy for the night, nothing restricted, nothing forbidden, no safe words."

Just the idea was enough to send her breathing to a hyperdrive, but she was still able to catch one important detail. "But you don't know where I live because of the mask…"

"Yes," Peter said gleefully. "If I win, I also take your mask as a trophy." She opened her mouth to object, but Peter cut her short. "Of course, if you're afraid, tell me so. There is always the chance that I would take pity on you and let you go free, if you can manage to beg emphatic enough," he said, underlining the word pity, knowing she wouldn't allow a hit on her pride, not to mention her raging arousal that etched itself to her face.

"Bring it on, Spider, but with one addition. When you fail, you're my toy for a week instead."

"Deal," Peter said as he leaned towards her lips, almost touching, his breath caressing her skin.

He stayed there a moment, feeling her heartbeat boosting just by the proximity. Then, he leaned down to her neck, blowing his breath hard on her skin, abusing his power to the max to examine her reaction. "Good idea, but terrible execution," she said with an arrogant laugh. "You really do have an elevated perception of your own prowess, don't you honey. But don't worry, I'm going to teach you your rightful place under my sexy heels, and you're going to enjoy it a lot."

Peter said nothing, just continued exploring her body, using the access that was provided by her unzipped suit to his benefit. He wasn't afraid of her lack of reaction to his treatment, as the first pass was just a discovery phase, identifying what worked and what didn't. After blowing one last time, testing her at the point the zipper ended, low enough to give a beautiful hint of her core, and earning a beautiful shiver in response, he was ready for the second phase, the build up.

It didn't take long for her to realize the second pass was much more different than the first. He had a map of her body, sensitive points, kinks, dangerous spots. Her actions were an open book to him, their meanings deciphered, a book he used to guide his every action to maximize the impact, delivering a maddening caress without even laying a finger on her. First came her soft moans, easily contained by her lips. Then they got stronger, requiring the assistance of her teeth to prevent their escape, marring her beautiful lips with teeth marks. When the thirty minutes mark was reached, even biting her lips hard enough to almost draw blood wasn't enough, her pleasure filled cries filling the rooftop as her orgasm drove close by.

An orgasm that Peter had no intention of giving to her, which was the whole point of the last stage, the containment. The power behind his breathing slowed down to barely a whisper, a soft breeze caressing her skin continuously, keeping her close to edge, just a hair's breadth away, a proximity that would be impossible to maintain without his powers.

He decided to deliver something even more evil. He pinned his watch to a point where it could be seen easily by her, destroying her perception about the speed of the time. With her mind burning with a desire to reach the climax, the time slowed for her, every second a torture.

"Stop," she whispered barely five minutes later, her voice frazzled with a desire, the need in her tone enough to send an old man into a heart attack. But Peter didn't, just continued his unusual torture. "Please, stop," she repeated, louder. "You win, so please let me go."

"Good girl," he said, patting her head gently. "Now, was that so hard." He examined her body. "Is it okay if I left you like that. The webbing will melt in about an hour, leaving you free."

"No," she exclaimed, panic cutting through the delirium of arousal. "Don't leave me, not without a release."

Peter smiled. "You're not referring to the web, are you, you naughty girl." She shook her head in panic, her need overcoming her standoffish mannerism. "I'll let you, but with one condition. You are not allowed to touch yourself until my visit, agreed?"

She was too helpless to reject. "I do," she whispered. "So, please, for the love of all holy and wicked, fuck me!"

"Not so fast, miss kitten, let's not ruin the main event. But I guarantee that you'll find the previews extremely satisfying as well." Then, without waiting for a response, he leaned and captured her lips. It wasn't like a kiss that he shared with Gwen, or even Liz. Those were soft, teasing kisses. This one was a burning assault of domination, merciless, limitless, enhanced by the fact that she was in no condition to fight back. Even that kiss was enough to make her climax, but Peter wanted it to be an explosion without a match. He slid his fingers down her suit until her burning nether lips were at the mercy of his fingers. And they had no mercy to bestow.

Her climax was beautiful, the webs around her arms only thing kept her upright. Peter didn't give her even a second, both his tongue and his fingers delivering their assault with full force. Her second climax exploded a few bare minutes after the first, but this time, Peter cut the webs that were holding her immobile, and she fell on her knees.

Before she could recover, Peter tied her arms behind her back, tight enough to hurt a bit. He had a feeling she would enjoy that. Then, he pulled his shaft off his costume and pushed to her lips. "It's payback time, kitty cat. Open wide."

She did, helpless under his touch and he pushed hard enough that his cock was lodged into her throat, the sound of her gagging filling the opening, but surprisingly, she leaned forward even more, still docile. Her act of submission was a surprise, though a welcome one. He decided not to miss the opportunity to cut loose, put his hands on the back of her head, and pushed until she lost her ability to breathe, with occasional breaks to make sure she didn't faint.

He welcomed the moment he finally got his well-deserved release and started filling her mouth with his seed. "Don't waste a drop," he ordered, but it was an impossibility, his shaft filling her mouth faster than she could handle in her dazed state. Still, she put a valiant effort, managing to swallow a significant amount, the rest oozing from her chin, falling on her spectacular breasts.

He cut the webbings once more, letting her free. Then, before she could react, he reached for her mask. "Let's see the beauty hidden behind the mask," he added, and pulled back, examining the elegant face that lied beneath, licking his lips with anticipation. He was going to have so much fun with her. "Tell me your name," he whispered, an order despite all its softness.

"Felicia," she murmured, drunk. "Felicia Hardy."

"Well met, Felicia," he said, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her cheek. "It's a pleasure to be your acquaintance." Then, before she could say anything, he pulled back, fixed his costume, and jumped off the building, leaving a dazed villainess watching him disappear.

It took more than an hour for him to return back to his hotel because he decided to follow her. Not because he needed to learn where she lived, which he could find out easily now that he knew her face and name, but to make sure nothing happened to her. After their encounter, she was half drunk, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get captured by a group of two-bit criminals. He didn't think there were many criminals that could resist a taste of her, especially when she was already sex-drunk and stained with cum.

He was back at the hotel after playing ghost escort to Felicia. He carefully slid through the window after making sure there were no cameras recording that particular one. Gwen was still sleeping comfortably, he was happy to note. He took a quick shower and slid back to the bed, his arms tight around her as the sleep finally arrived, despite the momentary flash arousal as his naked body pressed hers. She was still going to be in the there, he convinced himself.

* * *

It was a bit after the sunrise he had woken up, Gwen still breathing softly in his arms. His erection was awake even before, finding it hard to rest while keeping contact with such an angelic body, free for it to defile. Still, he didn't attempt to wake her up, enjoying her immobile warmth pressing his body. It was calming, like a beautiful sunrise. He only slipped out of the bed to brush his teeth, then returned to her warm embrace.

He hadn't had to wait for long for awakening. Gwen soon started moving, first still groggy after sleep, but her movements gained a conscious imperative soon after. Peter kept his eyes closed, curious about how she was going to act. First, she started caressing his body, but it was a weak, fleeting touch, like she was afraid to wake him up, but still wanting to make sure he was real.

Minutes passed, her hands stayed over his body, but the sensation behind her touch changed, replaced with a lazy satisfaction, with an added dose of arousal that got stronger with each passing second. Soon, her hands were scouring his body with a desire she barely kept in check. He still kept asleep, even when she slid out of the bed.

She stepped out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, a fluffy white towel wrapped around her, he watched from his parted eyes. He still acted asleep. Then, she stepped out of her towel and moved closer to the bed, prowling. She pulled the cover off his body carefully and leaned forward his shaft.

Her attention started with a soft kiss, managing to awaken him into a full mast once more. Then, she parted her lips, imprisoning the head in a fiery prison. Peter let out a soft moan, letting her know that she was in the right direction. Peter lay his eyes closed as Gwen slowly conducted a test run on his shaft, trying to acquaintance herself. It lasted for almost an hour, an hour filled with a countless amount of kisses, licks, and failed attempts to hide his shaft from the sight, but she finally succeeded at earning her reward. A reward that surprised her with its intensity as it sprung without warning, painting her face white.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, trying his best not to laugh at her shocked expression, knowing she wouldn't appreciate it. "What a pretty alarm clock you are."

"I try," Gwen said, a large smile taking the place of her shock, and she lay next to him, her head resting on his chest. "It's so comfortable," she murmured in satisfaction. "I just wish that we didn't have to go to the school."

"Sweetheart, the checkout is at 2 p.m, and you're miserably wrong if I intend to leave before trying out every room in the suit." She was about to say something, but his fingers reached for her nipples, twisting, replacing her words with a promising cry…

* * *

"It was an amazing day, Peter," she murmured as she wrapped his arms around his neck for one last, lingering kiss. "I would like to invite you inside, but…"

Peter kissed her once more, not needing for her to finish the sentence. After all, he knew what exactly she was talking about. Galvanized by her performance in the morning, Gwen had claimed she had indeed effective enough to keep his desires in check, and there was no need for another woman. He could have mentioned that it was inaccurate, because he needed to go out in the middle of the night to abuse an infamous villain just to be able to sleep, but since he wasn't a total idiot, he chose to leave Gwen in the dark about that particular detail. Instead, he challenged her to stay conscious for the next hour as he cut loose. Gwen agreed.

It took twenty minutes for her to faint with pleasure.

The good side was, it finally convinced Gwen that it might be linked to his powers. On the negative side, it made nearly impossible for Gwen to walk unaided. A good sleep would have allowed her to mostly recover, but he had a feeling that she would have a distinctive stumble tomorrow at school. "I understand, honey," he said, stole one last kiss, and then watched her turn and disappear into her apartment, his eyes stuck on her shapely ass. He wondered just how long it was going to take for him to convince her to experiment at her backdoor.

Not having anything to do, he decided to go back to home, hoping to rest a bit before going out for an evening patrol, though his arrival was delayed with another costumed idiot with new powers, calling himself Captain Catastrophe, trying to rob a bank via using some kind of shock-wave. He was careful enough not to hurt any civilian, limiting his damage to structures, so Peter just gift-wrapped him with his webs, careful not to damage him any other way. Then he gave a cheerful wave to the crowd and disappeared.

"Where are you, Peter," was the first thing her aunt said when she saw him.

"I told you that I was going to stay in a friend, auntie," he said, genuinely confused about her reaction.

"Not that, silly boy," she said, shaking her head in a good-natured exasperation. "You promised to be here for the date, remember? So, go upstairs and change. She is going to be here in less than ten minutes."

"Right," Peter said with a sigh. He wasn't really enthusiastic about dating whichever nice girl his aunt came up with, especially since his night was filled with two goddesses named Felicia and Gwen. There were a few girls that could even come close to matching them, and it was near impossible to find one of them in a blind date, especially since it was arranged by his aunt and her friend.

"Don't be like that Pete," she said, mock shaking the spoon she was holding. Mary Jane is a really nice girl, and very beautiful. Also, she's already at a sophomore at college, so I'm sure she's smart enough for you."

"Of course she is, auntie," he said, and leaned forward, holding her aunt in a surprise tickle attack.

"Get away, you scallion, you're going to be late."

"Sure, auntie," he answered and walked away, leaving her behind, chuckling. Since he had already taken a shower before leaving the hotel, he just changed his clothes and applied some deodorant. He was tempted to ditch the date, but her aunt already promised that he would be there, and he would hate to make a liar out of her. Still, he knew that the date would be a disaster, he didn't have much expectations from a girl in college that agreed to date a high school senior, neither in smarts nor in beauty. But a promise was a promise.

He was climbing down the stairs when he heard the doorbell ring. "I got it, aunt," he said even as he walked towards the door. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. He opened the door…

Only to freeze in a surprise. The girl that was waiting at the other side of the door was nothing less than a small miracle, tall, thin, beautiful, and to top it all, deliciously redheaded. "Mary Jane?" he asked, wanting to confirm, because the last thing he expected for her to be his actual blind date.

"Face it tiger…" she said with a smile on her face, though Peter could easily catch a soft teasing edge in her tone. "You just hit the jackpot."


	6. Chapter 6

Mary Jane was doing her best to suppress her annoyance as she walked through the short but well-cared path through the garden which led to the Parker household, but it was hard. She was there for a blind date, one that she had no input in arranging. To make it even worse, it wasn't even one of her friends, however few they were in number, that arranged it but her aunt, and only because she knew the aunt of the guy she was supposed to meet. Apparently, she guaranteed that her nephew was a nice boy. For all the faults of her aunt, such as her tendency to commit to the things Mary Jane had no desire to get involved, Mary Jane liked her aunt, enough not to disappoint her by rejecting to attend something that was already confirmed, even if it had been done without her input. A couple of boring hours where she counted sheep in her mind was a small price to make her aunt happy.

Still, she would have liked to be able to feel a bit of hope about the date itself, but the experience taught her otherwise. Even the people she picked up herself for a date had a disturbingly similar pattern of action. They had a tendency to go slack-jawed at the first sight, and most didn't really come back from that, barely able to string a few words together, except a few who just assumed that they didn't have any chance with her unless they brought her self-confidence low, petering her with a range of backhanded compliments they learned from third-rate pickup artists.

It shouldn't have been a surprise for her after that many repeats, but she still occasionally caught surprised with otherwise smart and accomplished men collapsing into whiny children or vindictive assholes. A couple of times she tried dating older men, but there never been a second date with them, because all invariably assumed that a young redhead aspiring to be a model should have less brains than a walnut, some going as far as implying that they could bankroll her modeling career. A rather unsubtle attempt to treat her like a prostitute, her opinions and preferences fading as they expected to buy her time with expensive gifts or cash-filled envelopes.

Of course, she could have dressed down to obscure her beauty or tried to limit her assertiveness to be less intimidating, but she didn't. The reason was simple. She was proud of her looks and her personality, and she had no intention of hiding her true self just to massage fragile egos of the assholes she dated.

Still, what her aunt did, arranging a date with a high school student, was another extreme. Yes, he would likely be too intimidated to try taking any liberties, not to mention there would be no alcohol the muddy the event and fill his mind with an unfounded confidence. Her aunt guaranteed that she would get along with him, because he was reported to be really smart, but Mary Jane chose to convert that to a different statement, that he had above-average grades with little to no social life. Still, she decided to have a nice conversation with him before calling it off and claiming incompatibility, mostly because her aunt would never shut up otherwise.

She couldn't help but feel tempted to mess with him a bit, which was why when she rang the bell, she took a sexy pose that brought out the best qualities of her shortish purple skirt and white tight blouse. And as an added benefit, if he couldn't handle it, a fake emergency call would save her from further torture.

Less than a minute later, the door stood open, revealing a dark-haired boy that she was supposed to go to the date with. Nice, she thought a second later, while he wasn't what one call strikingly handsome, he was still decent looking, with a straight posture. Quite decent, actually, as it was just as likely that she could have gotten a pimple-faced boy with excessively sweaty palms and a sickly grin. She smirked at him, but otherwise let him ride his shock for a couple seconds. That much of allowance she granted him, as she was more than aware she wasn't the usual outcome of a family-arranged date. "Mary Jane," he whispered in a tone of clear surprise.

The expression on his face was adorable, so she decided to tease him a little. "Face it tiger…" she said with a smile on her face, unable to prevent her from needling him gently. "You just hit the jackpot."

He shook off his shock a second later, surprising her with the speed of his recovery. She was expecting something more, maybe a bit of stutter, or a glance that helplessly undecided between her legs and her cleavage. Instead, he spoke with a clear voice, his eyes firmly on hers. "I can't disagree with that statement," he said, his lips quirked into a half-smile that hinted something dangerous. A clearly practiced expression, Mary Jane decided and dismissed it. The most danger a high school student could be was to himself through excessive drinking or pointless brawling, but it probably worked wonders at the cheerleaders looking excitement, and more than happy to settle for a facsimile of it. "Peter," he said, thrusting his hand for a shake. Mary Jane reached to meet in the middle, only for him to softly grab her fingers and bring to his lips in an interesting twist. "Charmed," he whispered.

"Smooth," Mary Jane said with a chuckle, trying to laugh it off, but she had to admit, he had actually managed to decently pull it off. She would have expected it to come across either dorky or pretentious, not a decent mixture of self-depreciatingly joking and attractive. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she had feared. There still wouldn't be a second date of course, she had too much self-respect to be dating a high school student, but still, a less than horrible date would be a nice thing.

"So, do you want to take the tube, or prefer the bike," he said, pointing somewhere behind her with a hint of pride.

She was ready to say the bus, as she had no intention of traveling with a ridiculous moped to their date, kind of which she expected a high-school student to have. Just to be seen on it by a potential producer on something like that would doom her career. She turned in reflex to check the direction, but her lips were already parted to pick the tube. "Definitely bike," she said, her decision hijacked somewhere between brain and her lips as her eyes fell onto the bike that he was referring. "Decent machine," she said, approvingly. It wasn't at the best of conditions, clearly old, but packing a decent amount of power.

"Excellent," he said and passed the spare helmet to her. "I hope you're not afraid of a bit of speed."

"I could ask you the same, if you dare," she answered, gesturing him to pass the keys, even though she knew she would be rejected. Which was a pity because she had to sell hers to contribute to her college fund, but boys barely out of childhood were annoyingly possessive of their vehicles, not to mention their absolute belief on the women's lack of ability to drive. Which was why she was monumentally surprised when he actually threw the keys towards her with a gentle curve. Another point of his favor, especially since he didn't look pointlessly eager to please or anxious about the fate of his bike. Instead, a challenging smirk colored his lips. Mary Jane had no issues meeting with his challenge. She took her seat, making sure her skirt wouldn't fly off in the wind, flash her date as she mounted.

"Ready?" she said, feeling his arms wrapping at her belly, neither too tight like he was trying to cop a feel, nor too soft like a weakling that hovers their hand over girls' shoulders at photos. Yet another small yet impressive detail, she noted before pulling herself back. Just because she hadn't had a decent date for a year didn't mean she was going to fall for a guy just acting half decent, especially one at his age.

She decided to focus on driving instead, her heart beating faster in anticipation of feeling the rumble of engines under her. She turned the key, and the engine started to rumble without the slightest cough, sign of a well-maintained machine. "Nice sound," she said, feeling that the bike was even stronger than she first presumed. "Are you ready to blow your mind?" she shouted in a cheerful excitement.

"Big words for a little girl," he answered, his arms tightening around her waist in a suggestive manner. On the normal conditions, taking that kind of liberty in the first minutes of the date would have been enough of a reason for her to call it off, but there was a small problem. She was doing her best to suppress a surprise moan that was badgering her lips to escape, partially due to ravings of the engine she hadn't felt under her for a long time, but also due to no small part that he had been lucky enough to tease one of her sensitive points with just enough power behind it. For that, and his earlier performance in the date, she decided to give him a pass this time.

She chose to start driving, enjoying the comfortable silence. Well, not exactly silence, she corrected, as their eyes were drummed by the monstrous noise of the engine as she throttled it more than midway, much faster than what was recommended in the streets of New York. She had missed it, she decided as the lights of the city blurred around her in a beautiful trance, though it was a bit annoying that she found the warmth of his body equally comforting. The last thing she needed was to feel fond against the boy she was going to dump at the end of the date.

Unfortunately, the streets of New York was not without ugliness. This time, it materialized in the form of two jerks who decided that driving towards a biker girl was an impressive display of wit, trying to squeeze her between their car and the sidewalk, forcing her to take a sharp turn to avoid an accident. A maneuver that took all of her skills and quite a bit of luck, which unfortunately left them dangerously wobbly, much to the enjoyment of the jerks in the car. Still, it was worth it, considering it saved them from injury, likely quite serious.

It was very close to the cafe she had picked for the date, so she drove for another minute, much slower this time, before stopping in front of it, already preparing an argument against her date's subtle snipes about women drivers. Though, he managed to surprise her once more as he dismounted the bike before her and removed his helmet, revealing a picture of calmness, like he had been absolutely sure that nothing was going to happen. When she removed her own helmet, there was a warm smile on hers as well, touched by his trust.

"Nice drive," he said even as he raised his arm for her to balance herself as she dismounted the bike. Another good call from his part, as it was something she would normally found patronizing, but with her legs feeling wobbly, still under the effects of the adrenaline, she welcomed it in the manner it was offered, made easier by the fact that there was no sign of mocking on his face, but only sincerity.

It was truly a pity that there wouldn't be a second date, she thought. Still, she decided to reward him a bit for all of his efforts, so she was quite a bit less careful, not to mention slower, than she normally would as she threw her leg over the bike, giving him a fleeting view of her lacy black panties, though long enough for him to notice the slight damp line in the middle. There was no need to give him ideas after all.

His eyes fell down for a moment, devouring the sight for a moment before rising back to her eyes, only dallying for a second on her cleavage, which she enhanced a bit by a strategic press of her arms. "Shall we," he asked, presenting his arm, that annoying smirk back on his lips.

"We shall," she answered, unable to prevent her smile from widening. The date was shaping up to be much better than she had thought it would, enough for her to feel less sure about her commitment not to date a high school student. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a second date, she thought, desperately trying not to think about how the texture of lips would feel as they devoured hers. He was sharp, handsome, and confident, not to mention he was neither condescending nor a doormat. There were worse things than a few years between a couple.

They moved inside, falling into a casual yet enticing discussion as they ordered and received their drinks, non-alcoholic owing to the fact that her date technically couldn't have one yet. "Any hobbies?" she asked as the discussion slowly moved forward from casual to personal.

"I can't call it exactly a hobby, but photography is taking a decent amount of my free time."

"Perfect," she said with a small laugh. "Maybe you could do my portfolio shoots, I'm in sore need for a new set," she added jokingly, not that she had any intention of allowing it of course. Not only that portfolio shots was too critical to be left to an amateur that didn't even call it a hobby, but also she wouldn't allow someone she was dating behind the camera. There was an interesting power dynamic between the photographer and the model that heavily favored the one behind the camera, abetted only by the utter professionalism of both sides, and she had no intention of testing that with someone she actually started to feel an emotional connection with.

"Why not," he answered with a shrug. "I can give it a couple of hours as long as we have matching free time."

"Why photography," she asked, trying to understand why he was spending money on something that he didn't spend enough time to call a hobby. She also hoped that he would give her a couple of points she could use to reject his offer, knowing that it would be a waste of time with the garbage an amateur would produce.

"It was fun at first, but doing it as a freelancer turned out to be more stressful than I had presumed. It's starting to wear me out, draining the excitement of the time I spent behind the camera," he answered. "Although, it's more of a problem with my main client rather than photos itself. That, I still enjoy. It's the selling part that is killing me."

"Client?" she asked, curious.

"Daily Bugle, Jonas Jameson in particular. A good editor and an amazing businessman, but a thoroughly unpleasant asshole to work with."

She nodded in surprise, mentally revising her initial estimation of his skills, realizing that when he said not a hobby, he was avoiding the term from the other end. Daily Bugle, for all of its annoyingly biased editorial opinion on certain issues, was one of the best newspapers in terms of visual quality. Then, she realized one thing didn't make much sense. "Why are you dealing with the chief editor though? I would have assumed he is too busy to liaison with the freelancers."

He chuckled. "You would think so, right? But he has all the time in the world to insult and belittle the people who supply him with the pictures of masked vigilantes. Especially when it came to Spider-Man, everything, including photos, always goes through him."

"Oh my god!" she suddenly exclaimed, remembering why his name sounded familiar, but in her surprise, she had lost the control of her mouth for a moment. "You're that kid that takes Spider-Man's photos!" As soon as she said it, her hands rose to her mouth in an attempt to prevent them to be heard, but it was too late, her hand fell to the side, but a deep blush continued to rise through her face. Fangirling about Spider-Man was bad, calling a date that she was starting to like quite a bit a kid was even worse. The date was over, she realized despondently, as she managed to exhaust the list of what not to in just one sentence.

"Yes, I'm that 'kid' that takes Spider-Man photos. Do you want a signature of him?" he answered, though Mary Jane was glad that he was smiling. It was a mocking smile, and his eyes flashed with a dark emotion that she failed to decipher, but a smile nevertheless. She accepted the implied admonishment without a protest. Getting teased for her about her ridiculous slip-up was not fun, but was better than being left in the table alone, her first promising date for a long while aborted midway.

"Sorry," she murmured, and he waved off casually before reaching and grabbing her hand, using his finger to draw small circles on her wrist. Another move that came a bit too quick for her tastes, but she allowed him, assuming it was a way to show possessiveness to cure his damaged ego for being called a kid. "Why do you work for them though? They hate Spider-Man, who is one of the best, most selfless heroes in the whole nation." She might have been angrier as he blamed her if it wasn't for her earlier mess. She was smart enough to not to double down ridiculously when there was still a chance of salvaging the date.

He shrugged once more. "With Jameson on the helm, they are going to write badly about him no matter what, so it's better to have charismatic pictures of him, that shows him at a good light, which is the only kind I provide Jameson with." He gestured her to lean forward, whispering. "And I find it amusingly ironic that half of the money he pays goes to Spider-Man."

Mary Jane let out a surprised laugh. She hadn't thought that Spider-Man was on the deal, but it was a good idea to arrange a deal with a photographer to maintain a semblance of control on his image, and he probably picked Peter because he saved him from some kind of danger at one point, maybe from a mugger. Still, Peter was right, that was funny. "It's shaping up to be a good date, Peter," she said sincerely as she leaned forward comfortably, her hand still in his, getting teased by his gentle massage.

"It's," he replied. "Though I need to tell you something. That might change your mood, but it would be unfair to continue without telling." She nodded, indicating him to continue. "I don't date exclusively," he simply said.

Mary Jane felt a bucket of icy water topping over her. "What do you mean, you don't date exclusively?" she repeated, though it was less of a question and more of a way of gaining time to process what he just said without exploding in anger. She had been just told that he would be two-timing her and hoped that she was okay with it.

He shrugged. "It is what it is. I can explain the reasons behind it, but I doubt that it would actually help with your anger."

She stopped for a second to clamp down in anger, and realized that her hand was still in his grasp, his fingers gently circling over his wrist. Even more annoyingly, despite her anger, she could feel aroused by his touch in a way that she never felt before, which made his statement even more annoying. She could easily imagine breaking her long-held rule and acquainting him with her bedroom at first date, making her disappointment even more clear.

But before she could answer, she was distracted by a loud noise of the explosion, then somebody stepped inside with the sound of glass breaking filled the room. A villain just stepped through the window, she realized. He was a tall man dressed in a poorly made lion costume, half red, a costume that would have looked ridiculous if she hadn't seen the source of the redness. He stepped through the window, not caring a bit about the lacerations on his skin despite the bleeding. And a glance on his face was enough to show that he didn't care about it a bit, madness shining in his eyes.

She wanted to skulk in the shadows and avoid his gaze as the chaos filled the room, but the villain managed to screw-up that plan easily."Shut up," he shouted, looking at the two children, around ten or so, who was crying in fear. Of course, his angry display only made the children cry harder. Her brain started working with burning clarity. Somebody needed to silence those children before the crazy villain decided to use a permanent way. He definitely looked crazy enough to do so. She turned towards Peter, hoping that he had an idea, as he had a confident aura around him, making her hope that he could act under pressure…

Only to see that he had escaped during the chaos. "That fucking coward," she murmured in shock as she realized he was nowhere to be seen. He had run away, not bothering to notify her, uncaring about the fate of the children that left behind. Still, even in that life and death situation, she realized that it hurt. Even with the stupid twist their discussion had taken in the end, she was still hopeful that there would be a second date after she convinced him that exclusivity with her wasn't a bad deal.

Until her date proved that he was a coward that couldn't be bothered about her life, or the life of children, if that meant a second's delay in his escape. She took a deep breath before springing into action. Lamenting about an asshole wasn't a priority right now, not when many lives, a list that included hers, were at stake.

She walked towards the children, suppressing her instincts to run towards them, not wanting the villain to see her as a threat. "What are you doing, woman," the villain shouted, his shout surprisingly similar to a lion's roar, she absentmindedly noted.

She knew that she had only one chance of convincing him, so she brought all the acting classes on the front, trying to seem as weak, as meek as possible. "I'm going to silence the children, sir, so that you don't waste your valuable time, sir," she said, keeping her eyes on the ground, her posture small.

"Good, nobody else moves," he said, and turned his attention back to outside, watching for something.

She walked next to children. "Shh, brave children," she started, trying to convince them to be silent. For a moment, she thought that she had been successful, as both children stopped. But her luck proved treacherous once more, because, for some reason, the villain chose to swing his arm in a wide gesture. An arm that was still bleeding, with a motion that sent an act of blood across the room, some it on the faces of the children. Mary Jane realized what was going to happen a moment before their mouth opened, but she wasn't fast enough to press her hands on their mouth. The cries of children filled the room once more.

Mary Jane turned towards the villain, hoping that she could gain a bit of time, but her eyes met with his, madness shining bright. With a startling realization, she understood that it was the last moment of her life. Still, not for a moment, she considered running away and leaving children to their fate, deciding to stick to her principles until the last second.

Then a red blur came to her view, and stopped in front of her, directly in villain's path. "Hi, ugly, why don't you pick someone to your size," the figure said, his tone strangely flat. Spider-Man, she thought in a sudden elation. The following seconds where he grabbed villains arm applied some kind of martial arts movement was the most beautiful sight of her life, the loud noise of breaking bone music to her ears. In principle, she didn't approve excessive violence, but as she watched Spider-Man webbed the broken villain to the ground, she was willing to make an exception for a monster that threatened the lives of children, just because he was slightly annoyed.

"Ladies and gentleman," he said after finishing tying up the villain, this time, his tone happy and jovial. More to the audience's sake, she realized as she watched people fall silent with smiles in their faces. Even the children, who were about to die moments ago, was smiling widely like they had seen the sunlight for the first time after a dark winter. "Sorry about the late arrival, but the ugly had an ever uglier friend outside. But now everything is okay, and the police are on their way."

Mary Jane watched the small miracle. The room that was about to explode into fear was filled with smiles, just by a few fun words, and the presence of a small man wearing red pajamas. He was a true hero, she realized, not just saving lives, but bringing hope with his sheer presence. "And, ladies and gentleman, please a round of applause for the hero of the moment, who put herself at risk to save the lives of two children." Mary Jane clapped as well until Spider-Man stopped in front of her, and it clicked that he was talking about her! She blushed as the crowd's voice got even louder. "And as a reward, she earned a trip to the New York skyline," he added, and the crowd started clapping even louder. Partially because they were amused, partially because they were still alive and needed to celebrate to underline that fact, she realized in a moment's insight.

But distracted by the realization, she realized that she never rejected the offer, when his arm was wrapped around her torso. She opened her mouth to say something, but his face turned, his expression mischievous, though how she was able to understand it despite the mask covering his face, she had no idea. "And don't forget folks, no one gives her description to the newspaper. She has a right to her privacy, and if she wants, she could easily talk to the newspaper herself."

With that, before she could say anything, she felt a movement. A shout escaped her mouth as she started flying, nothing to prevent her fall except just an arm wrapped around her waist. An arm stronger than steel, she realized, as New York flew under them in a blur of light. It was beautiful, thrilling, exciting… Better than any thrill ride she had ever been, be it a bike or a rollercoaster.

She tried to convince herself that her excitement had nothing with the body pressing to hers, a certain presence easily discernible, bigger than it had any right to be in a small frame like that. But as the ride continued, she slowly became acquainted with it, sometimes, hard turns forcing her to find a handle. At least, that was how she tried to convince herself, but it didn't help against the creeping blush climbing through her neck. Even without a mirror, she was sure that her skin was redder than her hair.

The journey lasted ten minutes and an eternity, too long and too quick at the same time, not helped by the absolute chaos emotion she was feeling. She was glad when he finally stopped on a rooftop, the whole skyline of New York under her feet. "So," Spider-Man said in a throaty tone that sent her shivers through her skin. "Do you want to have a ride?"

She turned, about to ask what he meant, when she realized his mask was partially removed, enough to reveal his lips. His thick, hypnotizing lips. He leaned forward, and only as their lips were about to touch it clicked her what he had meant, but before she could say anything, his lips were already above hers.


	7. Chapter 7

For Mary Jane, the world stopped making sense, but she was unable to comment, her mouth invaded by the tongue of her favorite superhero. She was going to slap him so hard, she decided. Who did he think he was, treating her like a toy just because he saved her from a certain death, a performance that was followed by the most thrilling, fairy-tale like experience of her life, the landscape of the city blurring in her eyes…

He had no right to kiss her like that.

She was going to slap him, she repeated in her mind. She was going to do it the moment she managed to pull away from his lips. But at that point, her plan hit an unexpected snag. Separating from him was proving to be harder than she would have expected. Not because of his arms pressing against her back, as for all their potential strength, their hold was gentle enough that she could have freed herself easily. She just needed to lean back, and the connection would be broken…

But she found herself reluctant to take that exact step. With their bodies pressing tight together, she could feel his wiry muscles, the sensation barely impeded by his skin-tight costume. She didn't want to deprive herself of the sensation. Just a second more, she thought, deepening the kiss as she tried to etch the moment in her mind.

Then, she felt his arms tightening around her body, smashing her even tighter against him. With a sudden insight, she realized that she lost the chance to pull back. His arms turned into a cage, trapping her inside. Not that it mattered. Under the heat of his kiss, she felt like a butterfly captivated by the fire, unable to stop her flight despite the edges of her wings starting to smoke.

And what a fire it was. She could feel her skin blistering under the heat of his passion, each touch leaving a burning track in its wake. His fingers roaming freely on her body, driving closer to her breasts. She knew that she should have grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands away. It was too much. But her hands rejected to follow her orders, instead, she was busy tracing the delicious contours of his muscles.

His fingers sank into her breasts, triggering a wave of pleasure in her heart, stronger than anything else she had felt in her life. None of her boyfriends, rare as they were, managed to awaken even a fraction of it even during sex. Just a touch over her shirt, and she was edging an orgasm.

Maybe it was a part of his powers, she thought, but that thought flickered away when she felt his hands on her waist, lifting her up. For a moment, she felt curious, as it was more comfortable than she would have expected. Then, she realized the reason. Her legs had turned traitor as well, wrapping around his waist to give him an additional leverage. But he took a step, and all of her desire to complain melted away, the rush of pleasure as her core rubbed against his shaft blanking out her mind.

She felt the cold presence of a wall against her back, but she kept her legs wrapped around his waist. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving her mouth suddenly empty. Still, she felt unable to say anything, her mouth occupied by an involuntary moan as he pulled her blouse down, his lips dancing on the sensitive skin of her breasts, pushing her bra out of the way whenever it tried to cut his way. Soon, his lips were around her nipple, biting hard enough to leave his mark, and just like that, she felt her mind blanked out by the strongest orgasm she had ever experienced.

It was unfair, she thought, that he was able to push her over the edge like she was a wind-up toy. It was different from her usual experience, where her partner did his, or in rare occasions, her, ultimate best to worship her body to bring a fraction of pleasure she was feeling at the moment. As she rested against the wall, enjoying the cold sensation across her burning skin, there was one detail that made her relax. At least, with her legs wrapped around his waist, it was impossible for him to pull down her panties. A small victory, but a victory nevertheless, she thought as she looked at his face, still covered with mask other than his lips, her lips curling smugly.

She realized her mistake when his lips shifted into a similar shape. She tightened her legs around him in an effort to make it impossible to pull them down, but she had missed an important detail. With his augmented strength, ripping off her panties was a trivial task for him, as he proved by getting rid of them in one lazy tug. He raised them up to taunt her before throwing them to the side, leaving her naked for all practical purposes. Yes, she still had her skirt and her blouse, and her skirt was even in the location it was supposed to be, but that was little comfort when she could feel the chilly evening air around her breasts, and his shaft pressing against her naked slit, separated only by his skintight costume.

"Stop," she shouted in panic, or more accurately, she tried to shout, but only a trembling whisper left her mouth, one she barely able to hear, sensual and needy rather than forbidding. He leaned towards her lips, making her think that he failed to hear what she had said. Her lips parted open to meet with his kiss, ignoring her orders to repeat.

He stopped just before their lips connected, and whispered one word. "Why?"

She struggled to take back the control of her lips, only to realize that she didn't have an answer. She couldn't say she didn't want it, her body was burning with an undeniable needs. She could say that they weren't dating, but saving her life, followed by one of the most thrilling experiences of her life beat every other date she had been into.

The word date tickled a part of her mind, like she was forgetting something important. Somehow, it was important, she realized. It took a second for her to remember why. Technically, she was still in a date with Peter, though that itself failed to be a reason to reject her hero. After all, it was Peter who smugly declared that he didn't do exclusive relationships. Not to mention that he left her in a mortal danger without a blink. There wasn't a reason to care about him, she realized. "Nothing," she said with a sudden realization. "There is no reason to stop."

And since there was no reason, she shouldn't waste the time of such an important hero, she decided, leaning forward to initiate the kiss that was awaiting her. The devil could take the future, the present was hers, she thought, surrendering herself for the kiss of fire.

Distracted by the texture of his tongue, she missed the significance of the movement of his around his waist level, though a certain stiff presence, pressing against her entrance, did an excellent job of reminding her. In response, she shifted a bit until it was aligned with her entrance, and pushed herself deep into it. It slid easily through her wet tunnel, filling her with the most acute sense of completion she had ever felt.

Then, he started moving. His hips rocked, and her world went off focus. He repeated, and the present reduced into discrete pieces of pictures, their connection lost. She remembered being pushed on the ground, his weight over her pushing him even deeper into her… She remembered him lying on the ground while she was desperately riding him, her tits dangling freely under the dim moonlight… She remembered being held up by his webs while he slammed repeatedly into her motionless body… She remembered a rush of pleasure, deeper than anything she had ever felt in her life… She remembered blacking out…

When her consciousness was back, she was in his arms once more, this time, he was lowering her into a familiar alley. Just half a block away from the cafe they first met, she remembered. She tried to remember the rest, but was unable to push through the set of disjointed images. Her nipples, imprisoned between a set of sharp teeth. A burning kiss, they shared as she lay comfortably over his chest… She knew that there were many more, but she was too exhausted to remember anything else. "Good night, MJ," he whispered, his body pressing tight against hers in a way that tempted her to ask for an encore despite her bone-weary exhaustion. But before she could say anything, he stole one last kiss then disappeared away. She tried to remember when she told him her name, but came up blank, not that it was important. After all, she failed to remember most of the night.

Exhausted, she tried to fix her hair and clothing, but without a mirror and a comb, she had a limited success. Not to mention she needed a new set of clothes, she added, noticing that her current ones were ruined in a way that suggested activities too rough for polite society. The absence of her bra and panties just made it worse. Helpless, she just stumbled out, no idea how to go back home. Calling a taxi wasn't exactly preferable in her current state, and the subway was just asking for trouble.

It turned out, the answer was waiting for her at the end of the street. The bike she came with came into her field of vision, her supposed date sitting on it, waiting for her. For a moment, she felt a rush of shame as a reflex, despite all that happened, it was weird to come face to face with a date she just cheated. Guilt spread inside her, as she expected him to break into an angry retort.

"It looks like you had a rough tumble," he said in a casual manner, and her mouth fell open in shock. "Should we call it a night, or do you want to continue our date after a change of clothes and a shower."

Mary Jane looked at him incredulously, unable to comprehend his comment at all. With the state she was in, there was no way he didn't realize she had been having sex for the last few hours. Not just casual sex, but rough, back-breaking, skin-marking, earthshaking sex. She didn't have a mirror, but she was sure that her neck was filled with hickeys, and her lips were puffed red, her lipstick disappeared into a red patch. And he just offered to continue their date like nothing had happened. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She decided to ignore the situation wholesale. Her mind was messed up enough as it was. "Just drop me back to home," she murmured and took the seat behind him.

"I would have said, be ready for the ride of your life, but it seems a bit of a tall order if I'm reading the evidence correctly," he commented flippantly.

She felt a spark of anger, annoyed by his easy dismissal. How he could be so callous with the situation, she had no idea, but decided to punish him in any case. She wrapped her arms around her, but let one of her hands slip under his shirt and raked his skin, hard enough to draw blood, getting even angrier when she received only a laugh as the reaction. "Rough kitten," he said. "Hold tight."

"Don't call me kitten," she retorted angrily, but the diminutive nickname wasn't the reason for her sudden anger. No, it was the sensation of safety and completion she felt as she wrapped her arms around his torso. A sensation that didn't make any sense. He deserted her without a blink when she faced the biggest danger in her life. And then, she spent the next few hours having sex with a different man. How could she feel a familiar sense of safety with him, she didn't understand, but she knew that her own body and his stupid, useless muscles were to blame in equal amounts.

Then he sped up, freeing her from the burden of deep thoughts, their place was taken up by panic. For a moment, she was convinced that he had decided to take revenge by killing them in an accident, since no one without a death wish could drive that fast in New York streets. She let out panicked cries with the first few close calls, but those subsided after realizing they hadn't turned into a bloody smear against one of the cars that occupied the same road. She realized he could drive quite well, almost enough to be professional despite his daredevil style, heedless of any danger, but always in control. She decided to enjoy the opportunity, adrenaline revitalizing her exhausted muscles.

Then she came into a sudden realization, which made her feel strangely hurt. Someone that could drive like could never be a coward, which meant he disappeared because he didn't care. He didn't care about the people there, and more importantly, he didn't care about her. If only she could understand why realizing that hurt her that much… Helpless, she decided to make him pay, the easiest way she could. She slid her hand under his shirt once more, dragging her nails over his skin again and again, harder and harder as he put no reaction. "I hate you!" she whispered, again and again…

She felt a sharp disappointment as they arrived in front of her home, which, only made her angrier, enough that even the thick lines of blood on his shirt didn't make her feel guilty. Well, not much, she corrected. She felt a stab of guilt, but it subsided after seeing him act unbothered by it. He said nothing, just gazed into her eyes. A gaze, for some reason, she was unable to escape. "What!" she shouted, letting her anger dominate her tone to hide her confusion.

"I'll pick you tomorrow, at two p.m. exact for, the photoshoot. Be ready for it, as I don't like to be kept in waiting," he said.

His casual assumption that there would be a repeat made her even angrier, though not as much as her own instincts, shouting her to accept it. "Do you think it's still going to happen after what happened today?" she shouted.

"Yes," he answered, calm as steel.

Mary Jane let out a wordless cry of frustration, turned sharply, and walked towards her door, only to come to a sudden stop halfway, realizing that she had given him a very intimate shot as her skirt rose with her rapid turn. But her frustration at that nothing compared to one she felt against herself, because she knew with an absolute certainty that, tomorrow at two, she was going to be just behind the door, waiting for the doorbell to ring.

It was enough confusion for the night, she decided, preparing to walk the remaining distance. But before she continued, she felt his hand around her wrist. It wasn't a hard grip, barely harder than a spider's web, but somehow, it was stronger than steel. "What," she said, turning back equally quick, giving him another view of her core, strained by her earlier adventure. How could he smile smugly at that sight, she had no idea, so she just ignored.

"No goodnight kiss?" he asked.

"Of course not," she answered, but for some mysterious reason, her body rebelled once more, leaning to meet him halfway, allowing his lips to capture hers in a domineering assault. One that felt familiar for some reason, but her mind was far too worn out to think about it. She just focused on trying to stand on her own feet, which was made difficult by her trembling legs. He pushed her back without breaking the kiss, and soon, their bodies were pressed tight against her door. She found herself locked in a primal, twisted tango, and failed to resist as his fingers slid under her skirt, leveraging her lack of panties to a great effect. She was like a dove, captivated by the deadly dance of a falcon, unable to escape… Evasion was not an option, even if she were to end between the claws of a predator.

Once again, the time lost its significance, she accepted passively as his tongue explored her mouth, replicating the movement of his fingers underneath. When he finally pulled back without saying nothing, disappearing with the loud roar of the engine, she failed to do anything but watch frozen. It took a while for her to gather herself enough to open the door and step inside. She slammed it back, then rested against it, trying to catch her breath.

"Welcome back, kiddo," her aunt's voice came from the living room. "You're later than I expected. Should I assume it was a good date."

"NO!" Mary Jane shouted, spewing her confusion, and the frustration for her loss of control. All her life, she never experienced a night she was that out of control, yet that amazing. And it made her furious.

She realized her mistake as she heard the footsteps closing by. "What happened?" she asked, panicked, and turned on the light a second later, only to gasp in shock. For a moment, Mary Jane was afraid that her aunt misunderstood the situation, thinking that she had been assaulted. As with her skirt in ruins, her blouse a dirty, ripped mess, and with her underwear visibly absent, it wouldn't be a hard point to reach. Then, her eye caught her reflection, her face in particular. Her make-up ruined, her lips marred… But all paled against the expression of pure bliss on her face. "Really, MJ," her aunt said with a soft laugh. "I wish I was a teenager if that what you call a bad date these days. I don't think my heart could handle a good one even then."

"It's not like that," Mary Jane argued.

"So, there won't be a second date, then?" her aunt asked, barely holding back a laugh. Mary Jane stayed silent. "I'm waiting," she added, chuckles escaping her lips.

"There will be," she whispered, strangely ashamed, and her aunt lost it, her laugh filling the house. "Shut up! It's complicated," Mary Jane shouted and dashed back to her room. Maybe the world would start making sense once more after a shower and a long, uninterrupted sleep.

But she suspected that it wouldn't…

* * *

 **Author notes: And Marvel's favorite redhead finally has a close encounter with our hero. I tried to do a twist around the usual story where the hero's date gets ruined by his secret identity. I hope you guys enjoyed as much as I did while writing it.**

 **Also, don't forget to check my original writings in P/atreon/dirk_grey.**


	8. Chapter 8

Peter couldn't help but smile as he drove away. He had just dropped his date back to her home, and aftermath, he was able to catch the short discussion between Mary Jane and her aunt, his enhanced hearing coming useful once more. He reckoned that it was not the nicest thing to do, messing with her head like that. But after yet another date was cut short by a stupid guy who decided that best thing to do with his new powers was to rob a bank, where he assumed that Peter Parker had lost his chances with his sexy date, he decided to pass the flag to his alter-ego instead.

The success of his superhero identity in seduction wasn't too surprising. Not only Spider-Man had its general reputation for his benefit, but it was also the face he wore while saving his life. The mystery from the mask was just a nice bonus, pulling back the difficulty to a trivial level.

It was her response when he met her without the costume that managed to surprise him. He had expected nothing more than a cold dismissal. Her confused embrace as they drove back was a welcome change. Somehow, she managed to subconsciously managed to recognize him.

It was a novel experience for him, making him unable to reject the opportunity to mess with her. After all the time being cock-blocked by his costume, he wasn't willing to stop when the reverse finally happened. And it was good that he did, the results were spectacular. Memories flashed in front of his eyes as he drove through the streets of New York, their heat contrasting with the chill of the night. But there was another, less welcome, effect of his memories. His pants were getting tighter. In times like this, enhanced arousal was quickly becoming a chore. He would have turned back to pay another visit to Mary Jane, but she was already too confused. His appearance would overwhelm her, regardless of whether she had seen him as Peter Parker or Spider-Man.

She wouldn't, but that didn't mean Peter hadn't had other options, such as a certain burglar who still owed him a full night. A full night without restriction, with a girl that could handle quite a bit of physical punishment. And she would do it gladly if her dress was any indicator. No one without a fetish for bondage would go around with a skin-tight leather suit.

He was glad that he took that break while taming Gwen. Losing such a promising beauty to Kingpin's grip would have been such a waste. A sexy criminal with a code of morality flexible enough to let Peter cut loose, added to a body strong enough to handle a bit of rough treatment… She was a treasure he was glad to capture…

But first, he had a stop to make. He drove back to his home, spending just enough time there to park his bike and convince his aunt that he was going for an early night. Then, he sneaked out of his bedroom window, once again dressed in his blue and red costume.

He was excited enough to explode when he arrived at Felicia's apartment, which was unfortunate because it was currently empty. She was probably at work, he reasoned. Waiting for her to arrive was an option, of course, but there was no point of wasting all that time while waiting for her. He started patrolling. He swung between the skyscrapers of New York a couple of hours, and in the process, stopping two break-ins, one late night bank robbery, and several mugging attempts. All told, a nice evening. During that, he checked for a second time, only to see the apartment was still empty.

His third attempt was luckier. He noticed Felicia jumping from roof to roof when she was a block away from her home. She was dressed in her leather jumpsuit, of course, its zipper pulled down generously, displaying a delicious amount of cleavage. A new mask was on her face, which was inevitable since the previous one lay in a hidden compartment in his room, his trophy from their latest encounter.

He chose not to alert her of his presence, silently following her instead. He wanted to see her in her natural state before he interjected himself. Stalking her turned out to be an enjoyable activity. Her skin-tight leather suit displayed her body beautifully as she jumped from roof to roof, each movement rippling on her skin perfectly.

When Felicia slid into her apartment, using a small window, strategically covered to prevent any observers -unless they were on the rooftop like Peter was- and closed it after passing. Peter was willing to do the same, but stopped after noticing an important detail. That detail wasn't the fact that she closed the window, which could never keep him out, or activated the security system, which would take only a second for him to disengage.

No, he stopped, because he could see her reaching the zipper of her suit. He might have preferred to remove it himself under the normal circumstances, but he noticed a certain hunger in her movement. He kept away, wanting to watch what she was about to start.

The decision proved accurate. Felicia pulled herself out her jumpsuit with rapid movements, throwing it to a corner a moment later, leaving her underwear -again black- as her only cover, if one discounted the mask. Peter waited for her to remove them as well, but she didn't do it, choosing to reach to a drawer instead. When she pulled back, there was a certain buzzing implement in her hand, which was traditionally used to meet certain female needs. When she threw herself on the bed, her underwear was still on. But with her bra pulled to the side, and her panties dropped around her knees, they didn't exactly count as dressed.

There was a certain hunger in her movements as she brought the device towards her knob. She triggered its electrical motor, filling the room with the buzz of its artificial tremors. Her lips parted open, letting out a few moans. "Oh, Spider," she moaned, her wide shut with pleasure. "Harder, faster!"

He felt his arousal spiking even further, which was understandable. It was normal, he thought. After all, there was no straight man that could resist the sight of this exotic beauty, calling his name as she rocked with enthusiasm, enhanced with a certain application of self-care. It was lucky that his previous encounter with Mary Jane was enough to blunt the impact, allowing him to resist the sight momentarily.

But he had no intention of keeping her waiting for too long. He swung nearer to her window. A moment's interaction with the cables, and her security system was temporarily disabled. The window slid open a moment later, allowing him to slip inside without alerting her. "Spider-Man!" she exclaimed a second later, making him worry that he had been caught, but a glance was enough to make sure her eyes were still closed. It was her imagination again, he reasoned. Their last encounter was still playing strong in her mind.

He closed the window behind him, happy that she had missed the significance of the sudden rush of chilly air, or too distracted to care. He took a seat on the leather couch directly across the bed, giving him a prime view of Felicia as she caressed her body with an unmet desire. It was a bedroom that was deserving of its penthouse status, filled with well crafted ornate furniture, the walls adorned by several well-known paintings. Interestingly, none of the paintings were stolen to his knowledge. But it was probably her sense of preservation, not wanting to have evidence of her adventures in such a convenient location.

Examining the decoration took a backseat the moment Felicia's lips parted open, carrying his name in their delicious curve. Her body was trembling in pleasure as she continued to massage herself, her moans echoing off the walls. Her white hair stuck to her sweaty body, tangled with her mask, white contrasting with black. Soon, her cries intensified, cluing to him that she was about to get the first climax of the evening.

But Peter wanted to be only one that was responsible for her climaxes tonight. "Amazing show," Peter said, clapping slowly.

Felicia jumped in panic, trying to balance herself on the bed in a defensive stance. But even for someone as flexible as her, it was a difficult challenge. Not only she was caught in a total surprise, but the surface that she was trying to balance herself on was also extremely soft, making her job even harder. Her panties, tangled around her ankles, wasn't any help, nor her prematurely aborted orgasm. But despite all, after a brief struggle, she managed to stand in the middle of the room in a martial arts stance, ready to defend herself. Peter couldn't help but smile when he noticed she raised her toy like a club, ready to smash him in the head.

Peter said nothing, waiting for her to process the situation. It took just a second for her to realize that there was no impending attack, and another one passed until she could realize the significance of his presence. "Spider, what an unexpected surprise," she managed to mumble. She turned slightly sideways, leveraging her legs to hide the treasure between her legs. She lowered her impromptu weapon, but didn't try to hide her body further. "What brings you here?" she added, trying to sound casual. A difficult task she almost pulled off. Too bad he could easily hear her quickened heartbeats.

"I was out, patrolling the streets when I saw a familiar figure," Peter explained. "And since I had nothing else to do for the evening, I decided it was a good time to take the fruits of my bet."

"You were here from the beginning," she murmured in shock, a blush creeping to her face despite her best effort.

"Yep, I was," Peter answered. "I chose not to say anything. I would be a poor guest if I distracted a lady from her task, wouldn't I?" He did so, of course, but he correctly assumed that she wasn't going to call him on that.

"It wouldn't have been a bother," she answered as she shook her leg discreetly, untangling her panties. But instead of pulling them back on, she left them lying on the bed, trying to look dismissive of her own nakedness, only to fail once more. Not because she was uncomfortable being naked with him, thankfully, but rather, she was too excited to act nonchalant. She tried to hide her vulnerability, but it paled in comparison with her excitement she was feeling.

"Is that so," he answered while she moved to a chair closer to his seat, fixing her bra as she took the last few steps. She said nothing as she took her seat, crossing her legs strategically. Peter couldn't help but lick his lips hungrily. Felicia had a deadly sexiness even fully dressed. And now, with just a bra and a mask, her skin trembling occasionally with the stress of her unmet arousal, even a genius like him was unable to come up with a word to describe her beauty.

"So, welcome to my humble abode," Felicia drawled a few seconds later, her voice calmer. But it didn't bother him, as he could still see the emotions dancing behind her eyes. "What can I serve you? Beer, wine, or maybe hot milk with some cocoa?"

"I wouldn't say no to a nice cup of cocoa," Peter answered with a smirk, amused by her expression of disappointment that he disregarded her dig to his pride too easily. She was badly wrong if she thought she could affect him with such a juvenile jab. "But don't bother," he added as she started to move. "No need to waste time with beverages when we could do more interesting things."

"Such as?" she gasped, failing to keep her voice even.

"That would be telling," he said. "After all, the exact bet was for you to do everything I want for the whole night. Right?"

She tried to answer, but her throat didn't comply, choosing to hitch with excitement instead. She coughed, the blush that spread to her body easy to notice without her clothes to hide behind. "That is correct," she managed to add a couple of seconds later. "However, a gentleman would never disregard a lady's wishes just because of a bet, would he?"

"It's a good thing that I'm not a gentleman, then," Peter answered, aware that his smile could be seen over his uniform. "If I was a gentleman, I would be duty-bound to bring you to prison, rather than bothering to punish myself."

"Such a sacrifice," Felicia drawled as a smile invaded her face. "My hero."

"It's nice for you to realize the depths of my personal sacrifice," Peter said with a matching amusement. "Still, we have enough time to kill. Why don't you show me around the apartment before we start?"

"As you wish," Felicia said as she stood up, giving him a glimpse of her nether lips, even wetter than before. "Follow me." Peter stood up, following her as she walked through the corridor, briefly showing her rooms. Not that Peter paid attention to them, more interested in watching the sway of her naked bottom with each step she took.

"… and this is my living room," Felicia added, gesturing a huge, tastefully decorated room, with an impressive view of the city. "Shall we go back to the bedroom."

"No," Peter answered, cutting her explanation short even as he examined the huge window, one that had one of the best views he had seen from inside a building. "No need," he added before she could argue, walking towards the living room couch. "Your living room is more than sufficient for what I have in mind." He sat down, then patted the seat next to him. "Why don't you take a seat so we can watch the New York skyline before starting."

"Good idea," she said. She walked to him in the same slow, sensual walk she had been using for his whole visit, then plopped herself down. Not next to him, but to the middle of his lap. Peter wasn't exactly complaining, especially when the thin fabric of his costume did nothing to inhibit the sensations he received as she positioned herself directly on his shaft. "Is this comfortable," she asked as she wiggled, looking for a better fit.

"I can't complain," Peter answered. He wrapped his arms around her belly, feeling her wiry muscles under the soft wrap of her skin, her beauty hiding her power. He brought his fingers on her skin, feeling her increased blood-flow.

For a moment, he considered easing in, teasing her slowly until she begged for his shaft, a copy of what had happened during their previous encounter. But he decided against it, not wanting to be a copycat of himself. Instead, he brought his fingers to her bottom, giving her a little push. She started to slide up and down on his lap, treating his shaft with a beautiful massage. He waited until she raised her lap, then pushed the bottom of his costume down.

He grabbed her bottom as she lowered herself to his lap once more. She stopped in surprise when she realized a certain hard object was pressing against her entrance, but it was too late. He pulled, pushing his presence deep into her shaft. He ignored her cry, continuing to pull her until his sizable length disappeared completely into her snatch, sliding easily in her well-lubricated tunnel.

"Is there something wrong," he asked casually, like he was commenting about the weather as he raised her until only the crown remained in her warm embrace. Her mouth opened to answer, but he pulled her down once again before she could answer, replacing her words with another cry.

An amused smirk appeared on his lips, hidden by his mask. He impaled her roughly whenever she tried to say something, preemptively destroying her words. "No, nothing is wrong," she managed to say after several repeats, her voice strained. But despite her loud cries, Peter barely had to try to make her dance over his length. She was more than enthusiastic to follow his clues.

A minute later, he grabbed her legs and stood up, a movement which incidentally pushed his shaft even deeper into her tunnel. The position they shared a moment ago was nice, but it was a waste of potential, especially since she was going to be his toy for the night. Not that Peter had any intention of restricting that only for a night. Sexy and naughty, she was a treasure he would never let get away.

He walked towards the huge window, Felicia jumping on his lap with each step. On the way, he managed to pull off her bra without breaking the rhythm, leaving her mask as the only piece of clothing on her body. He pulled out, then dropped her on the ground without a warning. Not expecting to end up with the responsibility for her own balance, she stumbled, her hands pressing against her window for balance.

Just as planned, Peter thought as he sent two quick bursts of his web, pinning her wrists against the window. "Premature much-" she tried to joke, but he had no intention to let her finish that statement. With her hips conveniently present for his attention, he slammed into her, interrupting her insinuation with another cry. She struggled for a position that would let her gain some of her control, but she lacked the strength to achieve that, especially with Peter slamming inside her again and again.

Peter didn't need to watch her reflection to know she was about to climax, but it was still nice. Seeing her face, still covered with her mask, twisting in pleasure, was a good payback for all the times he had been chasing behind her, tortured by the sight of her leather-clad ass, and hints of her breasts. And now, with that same hips lay in front of him, bereft of even the little protection afforded by her sexy suit, there was nothing that prevented Peter from taking out his frustration.

And took off his frustrations, he did, slamming into her again and again, encouraged by her boundless cries. Her tits rubbed against the glass with each repeat, staining them beautifully. Soon, she was limp against the chilly surface, her improvised chains the only thing keeping her on her feet.

He continued impaling her, not giving her time to recover. "Spider," she managed to whisper between her gasps. "Just a second-" she tried to say, only to be interrupted by a slap to her bottom, transforming her words into a cry.

"Tonight, you're just a toy," he murmured into her ear, but he carefully used a dark, seductive tone. Her pleasure spiked even further, even though she started struggling once more, trying to fight against her designation. Peter let her so. She was a strong-willed woman, and it would take her quite a bit to learn her place. But a position change was in order.

He reached to the webs that pinned her in place, and a pull later, they were gone. He wrapped one of his arms around her waist to secure her in place, not wanting her to fall down. Then, he walked up the wall, assisted by his free hand, ignoring the panicked yelp from Felicia. "What are you doing," she yelped.

"Change of scenery," he answered as he moved on the ceiling. He continued until he was in the middle of the room, amused by her sudden panic. After all, it wasn't like she was unaccustomed to the distance between her feet and the ground. Maybe it was because she wasn't in control, Peter reasoned as he shuffled to make sure she was pinned securely between the ceiling and his body.

Assisted by the gravity, it was even easier to push his length fully into her tunnel, each repeat bringing out a louder cry. "So, miss criminal," Peter murmured. "Do you have any big heists planned?"

"Why would I tell you?" she managed to say between her cries. "I don't want you to be there to disrupt my plans."

"I had a change of heart," Peter answered with a shrug. "Hunting a non-violent criminal that targets the high-end jewelers and other junk isn't the best usage of my time. It's not like there is any actual harm." Peter let out a snort when her expression actually saddening. He didn't need his Spider-Sense to realize he just stepped on a big abandonment issue. He slapped her plump flesh to distract her. "Don't sulk, I'm not saying I'm going to stop chasing you. It's just that I'm not interested in the useless trinkets you managed to get anymore." He stopped for a second to put a slow, sensual kiss on her neck, contrasting greatly with the violent pushes of his hips. "I found a better treasure."

Felicia didn't answer, not that she needed to when he could easily read her approval from her shivers.

* * *

 **Also, don't forget to check my original writings in P/atreon/dirk_grey.**


	9. Chapter 9

Mary Jane woke up from a sleep that was filled with confusing dreams, bone-weary with exhaustion. She would have been annoyed by it, but another, more dominant reaction stole the spotlight.

She was still aroused.

"How," she murmured in shock even as she hugged her covers, like they would be able to give her an answer. Last night, she had just experienced the best, and most exhausting, sexual encounter of her life. A night like that should have sated her for weeks, not leave hungry for a repeat before her body could start recovering from its effects. Even worse, she knew that the only reason she wasn't lunging for her phone to send a booty message for the man responsible was that she didn't have that number. She didn't even know the face of the man that was responsible for the best night of her life.

"Oh my god, I become a groupie," she murmured in an amused realization as she lifted herself from colorful covers of her bed, turning towards the bathroom door, desperate for a morning shower. She needed to recover if she wanted to have any hope of getting to her class on time.

She wasn't exactly a groupie, she corrected in her mind as she walked towards the bathroom, she doubted band members made a habit of saving their groupies from certain death. For saving her life, a sexy encounter was a small sacrifice to make from her part to reward such an amazing hero. In the bathroom, she quickly shed her clothes, ready for a shower.

Though, calling it a sacrifice might be another stretch, she noted as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining her naked body on the reflection, her skin marred with his aggressive touch, marks of his domination, something she had never thought she would enjoy. Whenever her previous boyfriends tried to be dominant, it ended up with them getting dumped with impressive quickness. But then, none of them made her desire flame like a touch from her last encounter did.

Her fingers traced the marks on her breasts, courtesy of his fingers, enjoying the firmness of her breasts in a way that no one had done before. The same fingers that invaded her core, preparing her for the ruthless invasion that followed when Peter pushed him inside-

"Fuck!" she gasped in annoyance. It was happening again. For some reason, whenever she tried to imagine good times with Spider-Man, her asshole date somehow found himself as a part of her imaginations. Same happened in last night's confusing dreams. In their ephemeral embrace, she was on a shopping date with Peter, but when he walked into a dressing room, Spider-Man walked out. When she was dancing with Spider-Man in a party, the clock struck twelve, and he suddenly turned into Peter…

It was all Peter's fault, she decided. How could he dared to kiss her with such a confident passion after he deserted him to die, or the fact that she had been having the most passionate sex of her life with another man just moments ago…

She sighed. There was no point in blaming him. It was her fault for clearly being attracted to him even after his cowardice, unable to muster even the slightest anger against him. She turned off the hot water, hoping that the cold water would quash the sudden heat that was making her insides tingle…

But she had a feeling that it wouldn't…

* * *

After her cold shower, she was fully awake, so it didn't take long for her to dress for the school, especially since she made a point of not dressing too nice when going to her classes. She had quickly learned that only beget jealously, which caused a lot of gossips, and her supposed exploits as a cheap slut. Wearing simple jeans-shirt combo didn't stop them fully, but at least, slowed them down a bit.

She was halfway to the school when she realized she had a more immediate problem than her gossiping friends. She had forgotten to complete her chemistry homework. A class that she was already edging failure due to the theater auditions she had been attending, though missing two quizzes and three other pieces of homework didn't make her situation any better. And with only one hour to the class time, she had no chance to put together a decent homework.

Then, an important detail from her last date popped up in her mind. Peter had mentioned that he was taking AP classes for biology, physics, math, and chemistry. She had to admit, asking his help after everything that happened last night was not the best idea, but failing her class, which would put her partial scholarship at risk, was even less appealing.

With her priorities in place, she rapidly typed a message for Peter. 'Sorry for bothering, but do you have a few minutes to help me with a chemistry assignment,' she wrote, trying to ignore the way her heart started beating as she waited for his response. Purely because of the way she was feeling stressed about her homework, of course. Nothing about last night's date could cause her hands to sweat or her heart to beat rapidly in anticipation, after all.

No relation at all, she repeated in her mind. And if she repeated enough, maybe she could convince herself as well. 'I'll be at your school in ten minutes, meet me at the entrance' his answer came. She gasped when his message. She was hoping for a quick phone call where he would help her to solve her problems, not an actual visit. It was too early to meet with him again.

For the next few minutes, she stood at the building entrance, waiting for Peter to arrive, while trying to ignore the whispers around. Her 'fellow' students were quick to start speculating about her slight limp, and much to her annoyance, they quickly jumped to the spicier end of the spectrum. "Assholes," Mary Jane murmured in annoyance, studiously ignoring the accuracy of their assumptions.

She was glad, and slightly vindicated, when Peter arrived, accompanied by the roar of engines, dressed in a leather jacket, exuding a sexy aura of danger. She couldn't help but feel smug when the female half of the gossipers turned their attention to him, their whispers interrupted by enthusiastic giggles. She had to suppress that feeling of pride a moment later when she remembered his tough-guy image was paper thin, and as usual, annoyed with herself because she couldn't feel angry at him.

She ignored her confusion as she waved at him. "Hi, Peter," she said, as she thrust her hand for a shake, signaling to him that she wanted for him to keep the distance.

Annoyingly, he ignored her hand in favor of walking closer. She realized what he was about to do a moment before he started to act, and opened her mouth in warning…

Only for his lips to close over her. She knew that she should have got angry, slap him, shout his head off, or at minimum, push him back. Anything other than responding to his kiss as he wrapped his arm around her waist, and dipped her down like a cheesy movie scene.

"What are you doing in the middle of the campus," she eventually said, scolding him with a slap to his arm, though it would have probably would have been more effective if she hadn't done it right after a heated kiss that stretched out for minutes, where she didn't even bother trying to get out of his grip.

"Sorry," Peter said with a juicy smirk, making her blush even deeper. It could have been better. At least, unlike the last time, she didn't end up losing her panties after the kiss- She shook her head. No, that happened with Spider-Man, not Peter. It was unbelievable how often she could mix them up.

"Anyway, can you help me with my homework, we don't have too much until the class, and it's kind of vital. I'm under real risk of failing if I don't turn it up."

She was glad that instead of quipping, he just nodded. "Maybe we should go to the library," Mary Jane said, wanting to leave the gossiping crowd around her behind.

"Lead the way," Peter answered.

Mary Jane turned her back, hurrying to hide her sudden blush. How pathetic she was, affected by even the most casual words, just because his voice had a certain rumble that triggered some of her dreams. She made sure to keep the discussion casual as they walked towards the library, trying to avoid anything extreme.

She made a point to ignore the sudden spike of gossip as she walked in the library, students once again commenting on her unfamiliar partner and her peculiar way of walking. She couldn't help but send a wary look towards Peter's way, expecting him to look angry, expecting his pride to be wounded, as he knew who was responsible for her chafed legs.

But, contrary to her expectations, the only thing on his face was a prideful smile. His reaction perplexed Mary Jane, but she was willing to ignore it in favor of her chemistry homework. She led him towards one of the tables on the corner of the library, away from the prying eyes of the other students.

She pulled her homework immediately after sitting. "Can we start quickly. The class will start in less than thirty minutes."

"Sure," he said as he pulled her homework, an amused expression on his face, though he didn't pick a pen. But, after a glance, his amused expression was erased from his face, suddenly serious. For a moment, Mary Jane was afraid that she had made a mistake, that the homework was above what Peter could handle despite his advanced class, a fear that grew more silent Peter stayed.

"Interesting…" he murmured, a sentence that confused Mary Jane quite a bit. Annoyingly, he continued looking at the paper instead of explaining his reaction, not helping her worried status even a bit.

"What's so interesting," Mary Jane sniped, feeling the pressure of time. "Are they too hard for you?"

"No, it's not that," he said with a negligent wave of his hand. "They are not particularly hard, though they are definitely well-thought out and insightful, and includes some interesting details that I wasn't expecting to find in an undergraduate class." Mary Jane looked at him curiously. "For example, question four. It looks a basic question about genetic chemistry, but the example he had used is a Gharial Lizard, which had been recently discovered to have a genetically encoded regeneration mechanism well-above the standard of its species."

"Is it important for the homework?" Mary Jane asked, cutting his explanation short. As a student of the art faculty, it would be a huge lie if she would have said that she was interested in Chemistry. The only reason she was having that class was that she needed to take a science elective, and it was the only section that fit her schedule.

"No," Peter said with a shrug of his shoulder. "I just found interesting that the lecturer of an undergraduate class is making an effort to track the latest papers. Dr. Connor just published that paper a month ago." He shrugged. "Is your lecturer an assistant of his?"

"Dr. Connor? That's our lecturer's name," said Mary Jane. Following reaction definitely surprised him.

"Surely not," Peter said, looking surprised since the first time Mary Jane had met with him. "You're telling me that Dr. Curtis Connor, the foremost expert on morphologic genetics is your teacher?"

She was surprised by his reaction. The reaction itself was not unfamiliar. She remembered reacting similarly when she learned one of her friends was getting acting classes from a previous Oscar winner, but she was surprised that the cheerful but kind of meek professor from her class with only one arm evoking a similar reaction. "Is that a big deal?"

"Well, he's just the biggest expert on one of the most important scientific topics of the last decade, that if cracked, would probably increase average human life by a decade or two, so?" She felt herself getting silenced. "Do you think it would bother him if I joined you in the class to audit."

"I guess not," she answered. Dr. Connor was a pretty amenable man, and surely wouldn't bother just because a young man came to listen to his class.

"Excellent," he answered, and for the first time, Mary Jane saw a smile on his face that could be construed as cheerful rather than sexy. But even that smile, for some reason, managed to quickened her heartbeat. She carefully ignored it, focusing on the more immediate challenge instead. "Now, let's start your homework. The first question is about the relative strength of molecular bonds…" he started.

Mary Jane listened to him, her pen dancing over the paper, interestingly, not only completing her homework with surprising speed, but also, finding herself understanding the subject matter easily. Explained like that, it was so simple…

Of course, Peter chose that exact moment to complicate things once more, in the form of his hand, landing casually on her leg while she was in the middle of a question. She suddenly stopped, her breath hitched. "Is something wrong, MJ," he asked amusedly.

"No," she answered between her clenched teeth, determined not to show just how much she had been affected by his touch, one that would have been mistaken for absentmindedness if it wasn't for the amusement dancing in his eyes, though the way he kept shortening her name wasn't exactly helpful as well.

"Let's continue, then," he said, and his fingers started dancing over her thighs. She would have pushed him off if his fingers strayed towards a sensitive spot, but he kept his fingers close to her knees. With the amused smile on his lips, she could see that he was trying to tempt him for immediate action. She decided to ignore it, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a successful taunt. And it wasn't like he would be able to arouse her while restricting himself to her lower thighs, over her jeans, and to top it all, while helping her to study…

It took just a minute, and a certain flame awakening in her loins, to show her that she might have been a tad inaccurate in her prediction. She was just about to ask him to stop when he quirked his eyebrows in amusement. Mary Jane's face started burning with embarrassment, per pride preventing her from saying anything. "Can you explain the last point again," she said instead, using her homework as an excuse.

"Of course," Peter answered huskily before starting to speak, somehow managing to make chemistry sound sexy. She bit her lips, trying to maintain her composure, a decision that turned out to be surprisingly difficult. She bit her lips, trying to suppress the butterflies in her stomach. The class couldn't start quick enough.

But if she could have changed the speed of the time by just wishing, she would be a superhero, so, unfortunately, it meant that she had no option of just suffering his attention for a few more minutes. She ignored the rational part of her mind that reminded her that suffering wasn't the best word to be used in the situation, not when every twitch of his finger was enhancing the pleasure she was feeling despite his determined distance from dangerous spots.

She bit her lip to keep a moan as she followed another explanation of his, filling another section of the paper, pulling closer to the finish line, her hand trembling a bit. But towards the end of the sentence, the tremble got bad enough to obscure the sentences, so she put the pen on the table, taking a deep breath to gather her wits.

"Is everything okay," Peter asked, immediately destroying the last bits of her composure. The question itself was fine, the same couldn't be said for the way he leaned towards him, enough for his breath to dance on her skin, or the way his voice rumbled.

Not trusting for her voice to not to crack, she just nodded while picking up her pen once more, wanting to finish her homework before her body overheated. She would have liked to believe that thanks to her acting abilities, she managed to keep the signs of her arousal hidden, but the distinct heat on her face suggested otherwise. Thankfully, he didn't say anything, and she returned her struggle to finish her homework.

She felt herself relax when he pulled his hand away from her leg, though she would be lying if she said that she felt no disappointment. She kept her head strictly on the paper even as she listened him pushing his chair back. She was planning to ignore his footsteps as well, but noticing that they were coming closer, it didn't take long for that plan to fall aside.

"Peter?" she managed to ask as she raised her head, though she failed to meet his eyes, as he had used successfully the opportunity to take a position behind her. He said nothing, but she felt his hands on her shoulders. "Peter?" she repeated, this time more urgently. After the impact those fingers had on her legs, she was afraid how the consequences if they had the opportunity to dance over her shoulders. The part of her cursing her next class for blocking a certain opportunity didn't help her composure any.

"You seemed a bit stiff. I'm guessing it was the last night's effect. You did get exhausted, after all," he said with a chuckle even as his fingers started to dance over her shoulders, triggering her desires even worse. But even under that deluge, she couldn't help but feel shocked, and not for the first time, the relaxed way he was mentioning her having sex with another man, even if that man was a superhero that saved her life. But this time, under the skilled treatment of his fingers, it was easier to ignore that niggling question.

He continued to explain her the finer points of chemistry while his fingers continued to deliver her massage, occasionally correcting a mistake of hers. Mistakes that she was making more than the usual, but his fingers and his rumbling voice wasn't making her job any easier.

The homework couldn't get completed any quicker…

* * *

 **Author notes: And finally, the muse decided to give mercy, and I was able to write another chapter of this story. I hope everyone enjoyed it. It was a challenge to write this chapter, but a fun one...**

 **Also, don't forget to check my original writings in P/atreon/dirk_grey.**


	10. Chapter 10

They walked towards her chemistry classroom in silence.

Weirdly, Mary Jane was enjoying the said silence a lot. It was a welcome change from the other men, desperate in their attempts to fill the silence with incessant chatter, like they were afraid of her forgetting their presence, though it rarely worked as intended, as their juvenile insecurity made her cool of them rather quickly. It was ironic that Peter was younger than them by a few years, yet displayed a sense of calm maturity.

Ideally, she should have continued in silence until the class, but an impulse struck her, and she reached for his hand, his heat calming and exciting at the same time. A part of her was afraid that he would pull it away, something she was afraid to be conveyed in the firmness of her fingers, but if he noticed, he didn't bother to comment on it. So, they traversed the corridors in silence, their view sending the gossip mill overdrive.

When they arrived at the class, Mary Jane dropped her homework in the appropriate box, and was about to take her usual seat on the first line of the class. She had enough trouble following the class without the distractions from the others. But Peter had a different idea, because he tightened his fingers around hers and dragged her towards the far end of the class, to a seat conveniently hidden by a structural beam.

"It would be better if I don't get noticed, since I'm auditing," he explained.

Mary Jane would have liked to argue that it wouldn't be trouble for the professor Connors, but the professor chose that exact moment to enter the class. Mary Jane took the seat. It wasn't important enough to earn the ire of the professor of a class that she was edging on failure. Though, only after the class started, she realized that if he was trying to hide from the professor, maybe he should have sat on the concealed seat.

At that moment, Peter turned at her with a smoldering expression, and Mary Jane realized he had ulterior motives picking up that exact seat. Destroying that plan didn't require much from her side. She just needed to change her seat. An emphatic no would probably work just as well. Of course, both of those things required for her to be able to move.

But she was motionless, drowning in a sea of anticipation.

Recognizing her demeanor, his smile grew wider as his fingers landed on her thigh, gently caressing in a way that made her both thank and curse the fact that she chose to wear jeans rather than a skirt, especially a loose one that would allow direct access to his magical fingers, somehow managing to set her skin on fire with the barest of touch. To make things even more interesting, he had a pen in his right hand, occasionally scribbling notes on her notebook.

She had assumed that it was a part of his disguise, not expecting him to actually follow the lesson while delivering that magical treatment underneath the desk, but soon, she had realized the inaccuracy of that particular assumption. It was just a few minutes into the class, and Dr. Connors had just launched another monologue about the latest developments in the field of genetics, missing the fact that students of a beginner-level class failed to follow more than a few words into his explanation.

Or almost no student, she corrected when she saw Peter raising his hand. She wasn't the only one that was surprised, as from her expression, she could see that other students weren't expecting her guest to actually care about the class, the way he dressed suggesting delinquent rather than studious. Dr. Connors was also surprised, but his expression was more pleasant, happy that one of his students actually had an input to the topic, even if just a clarifying question. "Yes, Mr?"

"Parker, Peter Parker," he answered, his expression serious. Mary Jane was glad for the concealment of the column, as otherwise, she didn't think she would be able to hide her expression of shock, because his left hand was still underneath the desk, delivering the most maddening massage of her life. "I had a question about the paper you mentioned. I have read it, but it feels a bit far-fetched to assume that alternating gamma fields without a modulator should bring that effect without any long term side effect."

"Interesting question," the professor said with a big smile, though meanwhile, Mary Jane had started to bite her lips to hide her expression. "But I have already replicated that particular technique in my research, and I could confirm that it does not create any side effect. DNA degradation was well under the acceptable statistical limits."

"But what about the paper published by Dr. Banner the last year? On that paper, he postulates that the effects of the Gamma radiation could occur significantly after the timetables developed based on the effects of the more traditional types of radiation."

"You read that paper?" Dr. Connors said with a happy exclamation. "It was a unique read, but most of my colleagues think that the methodology is a bit stretched, not to mention the most recent … debacles about Dr. Banner."

"I agree that there are some limitations on his methodology due to limitations of his current situation," Peter answered. "But still, the implications of his research suggest that the gamma radiation doesn't conform into expected standards, therefore the assessment fails to capture the long-term impacts."

"But what if…" Dr. Connors answered, which spawned into a rather lengthy discussion about the reliability of the various experimental methods, which Mary Jane would have been hard-pressed to repeat even if it wasn't for Peter's fingers, continuing their insidious yet heated assault on her thighs. Luckily, the rest of the class had lost their interest in the discussion, focusing more on their phones, removing the concern that one of them would notice the peculiarity of her expression.

The discussion went for almost ten minutes until one of the students shakily raised his hand and inquired fearfully whether that discussion was going to be in the exam.

"Oh, goodness," Dr. Connors murmured. "Sorry, everyone, we were distracted by our scientific zeal. Mr. Parker, would it be okay for you if we continue the discussion after this class."

"That would be fine, professor," Peter answered, and the class returned to its normal beat. Well, almost normal, Mary Jane corrected, as the class seldom included a set of fingers that was determined to make her climax while avoiding the sensitive spots. At first, it made her relax, but as her arousal grew enough to make her wish for a clean orgasm, but that, Peter didn't allow, even going as far as to hold her wrist when she tried to bring her hand to the dance, to quicken her own orgasm.

She wished that she had the courage to reciprocate in the same manner, but the imaginary smirks of the other students were enough to dissuade her. Instead, she buried her head in her textbook, surrendering her hopes to understand the lesson. Maybe Peter could teach her today's subject, she thought, though from there, it took only a second for her mind to slip all other interesting things they could in her room.

Her acting lessons were coming handy, though. She didn't think she would be able to resist moaning without heaps of emotion-control lessons she had to suffer through. After a while, maintaining a calm expression became automatic, enough for her to raise her head once more.

If only Peter didn't choose that exact moment to push for the next stage.

When she noticed that he had leveraged her inattention for his fingers to drift more dangerous areas, it was already too late. He had already unlocked the buttons of her jeans, allowing his fingers to slid inside her panties, and a fresh jolt of pleasure broke her composure like a paper wall.

Once again her head buried in her textbook, she barely cared how the lesson was developing, her attention fully occupied by her increasing level of pleasure. She could feel her orgasm was just a touch away…

And, true to his personality, Peter chose that exact moment to pull his hand away, leaving her on the edge. She wanted to admonish him for that, but one rather important thing held her back. She was still in the classroom. That same fact also prevented her from sneaking her hand underneath the desk and covering the last bit of distance through self-determination.

When she managed to gather herself, she raised her head, and saw that the class was empty, with the exception of Dr. Connors and Peter, standing in front of the board, having an animated discussion while occasionally drawing complex diagrams on the board.

She couldn't help but send Peter an angry glare as she tried to balance over her trembling legs. Couldn't he waited for just a minute more, or hurried up a bit. He chose that exact moment to turn towards her, his smirk enough to answer her unasked question, suggesting that her plight was designed from the start.

She would make him pay, she decided, as she walked towards him. The next time, she was going to return the favor, making him beg to get rid of his blue balls…

But that was for later, Mary Jane decided as she covered the rest of the distance, which managed to pull both men out of their discussion. "So, Mr. Parker," Dr. Connors said even as he turned a bit to include Mary Jane into the discussion. A small point, but she appreciated it. "I'm assuming that you're not a part of my class, considering it's the first time I'm seeing you." Then, he sent a jovial smile to Mary Jane. "Or maybe you have been infected by your friend's attendance disease?"

"Sorry, sir," she said, ducking her head. "It's just that a lot of your classes coincided with my auditions and practices, and as much as I enjoy your class, my future career has to take the priority."

He waved his hand with a soft smile. "Don't worry, I was just teasing. I'm fully aware this is an elective class for non-science majors, and you all have other priorities." Then, his smile got a bit more excited. "Almost all of you," he added, looking at Peter once more. "So, Mr. Parker, what brings you to my class?"

"When I heard from MJ that you are the professor, I just had to audit your class. I'm a fan of your work since I have read your paper on genetic mutations in relation to anthropomorphic transformation and transferal, a very insightful take, if a touch too aggressive."

"Ah, thanks," Dr. Connor said. "But I fear it's not really compliment-worthy. We are still far away from application phase."

"All science is, Doctor. For years, it seems little better than idle curiosity, until the moment it isn't. Then it changes the world," Peter said with a shrug. "All it takes for one last discovery from an unexpected direction to click everything in place."

"An admirable lookout, sadly one that lacks in most of my doctorate students, who are far more interested in getting a cushy job at a giant like Ozcorp or Stark Industries to actually care about the science." Then, his expression shifted to calculation. "So, are you a Senior," he added.

"I am," Peter answered with a nod. "Why?" Mary Jane was suddenly struck with a premonition about the misunderstanding that was about to happen. She was sure that Dr. Connors was thinking that Peter was a college Senior. Then, Dr. Connors started a detailed explanation about the benefits his doctorate students received, from lab tech to grants, while Peter listened disinterestedly, trying to understand where that tangent had come from.

It was funny to see two geniuses derailed by such a simple misunderstanding. And while it would be fun to leave them wallow in that particular pit for a few minutes, Mary Jane would have felt bad if that somehow prevented Peter from connecting with his science idol. "Sorry, Professor," Mary Jane said, cutting in. "But I think Peter missed the fact that you're trying to recruit him for your doctorate team?"

"Why?" Dr. Connor said, obviously confused. "I mean, did he already took a fellowship in another place? Tell me you haven't been already recruited by the idiots in Ozcorp."

"No, but his doctorate is still a bit far away," Mary Jane said with a giggle, watching Peter's face light in understanding. "Peter is a senior in High School."

Dr. Connor looked at him, surprised. "Sorry," he said. "With the level of knowledge you had shown, I assumed you were a genetics major. I'm willing to bet that half of my doctorate students would have trouble following the points you raised during our discussion, yet alone actively noticing them and compiling such an impressive rebuttal without lab evidence to back it up."

"Thank you-" Peter tried to say, but Dr. Connors cut him off before he could continue his sentence.

"Still, your situation leaves me an even better place. You must join NYU next year. I don't even need to see your transcript. From the level I saw in our discussion, I can guarantee you admission." Peter opened his mouth, but Dr. Connor added one more sentence before he could speak. "Full scholarship, with an invitation to a paid position in my lab."

Mary Jane looked at them in shock. She had been expecting a surprise from Dr. Connors, but not one in that magnitude. College admission was the toughest challenge she had ever faced, pages and pages of essays, an untold number of extracurricular activities, financial documents for scholarship applications, countless hours of interviews… And even with that, she was only able to get a partial scholarship, the rest of her tuition covered by a mountain of debt. And just a discussion was enough for him to earn a full scholarship, based on merit.

She couldn't help but look at him in astonishment. Just by talking him a couple of sentences was enough to reveal that Peter was quite smart, but only then she realized that she had misjudged the scale radically. He wasn't smart, he was a veritable genius.

She halfheartedly listened as Peter promised Dr. Connors a visit to his lab where they could discuss it further, giving an absentminded wave as the professor left, leaving her alone with Peter. "So, congratulations?" she murmured, still trying to process what had just happened.

"Thanks," Peter said, his whisper dark and throaty once more, and Mary Jane felt helpless as he walked towards her. "And I know exactly how to celebrate."

Before she could even process what he had said, she felt herself being pushed on the teacher's desk, and he stood on his knees, once again unbuttoning her jeans. Then, his lips just an inch away from her core, protected only by her flimsy panties, their dampness revealing just how unlikely MJ would be able to resist his treatment.

She still opened her mouth, planning to deliver an argument about the risk of doing it in the middle of the classroom, where someone could just walk in. However, her orders must have been hijacked somewhere in her nerves, as the words that left her mouth was radically different from what she had ordered. "Hurry up!" she asked, not the strongest display of decisiveness, especially with her pliant tone, though the moan that followed hardly helped.

"Your wishes, my command," Peter answered as his fingers found the edge of her panties, pulling slowly enough to create a flare in her mind. She was sitting in the professor's desk, her legs parted open to make her current lack of underwear obvious. She felt fear, but it also brought pleasure with it. A slow, mind-numbing pleasure that filled her mind until it left no space for her to think.

She had worked hard to create an image of competence and seriousness in the eyes of her teachers and her fellow students, trying to overcome the first impression people tended to have when they see a beautiful aspiring model. And now, it would take only one student, coming early for their next class, or looking for a silent place to their homework, for all of her efforts to crash and burn, her public adventure becoming a part of the gossip mill.

Still, none of them mattered when compared with Peter's tongue, tracing her entrance in rough, aggressive beats, threatening to drown her in a sea of pleasure. She reached and grabbed his hair, squeezing hard enough for it to hurt, but Peter gave no reaction other than his tongue speeding up in a rare display of mercy. She tried to push him closer, the burning desire in her heart asking for release, but his neck didn't budge, a shocking display of power considering her leverage, but she had more important concerns than thinking about their disparity in strength.

Such as her upcoming climax, banging the doors of her castle.

Her mouth opened to let out a loud cry, only remembering halfway that they were still in the school, but before it could trigger a disaster, she found Peter suddenly appearing in front of her, his lips more than ready to seal her voices, his invading tongue acting as the cavalry. She rippled and moaned while his fingers took the place vacated by his tongue, turning her climax into a drawn-out affair. "You are a monster," she found herself murmuring as he pulled away.

She did nothing, still riding the aftershocks as he pushed her panties back in place, and applying the same treatment to her jeans a moment later. "What can I say?" he said with a smirk, his lips still glistening. "Like any artist, I lose myself when working on a masterpiece."

"Too cheesy," MJ said as she tried to sit, which would have been more effective if it wasn't for the sudden blush at his compliment. "Didn't anybody said that bragging is a poor habit," she quipped, unable to get rid of her huge smile.

He examined her body pointedly. "There are some achievements that are well worth the words spend to adulate their beauty," he answered.

"Okay, hotshot," MJ said as she tried to stand up, but her attempt was blocked by her trembling legs. "If you are still feeling energetic, why don't you help me walk to the bathroom. I need to make myself presentable."

"Why," he said, leaning for another kiss, while short, left her panting in arousal. "You look positively delectable."

"Good try mister," she said as she stood up, subjecting her legs to another test. A test her legs failed miserably, she realized a second later when she started toppling, only for Peter to appear next to her, his arm already around her waist. Mary Jane was sure she wasn't the one that started the kiss, even though it was her hands that found his head and pulled him close while smashing her lips against his. No, it was purely an accident.

It took more than a minute for her to realize she was still in the classroom, and they needed to stop before anyone stumbled at them. While their position was far less scandalous than the moment before, avoiding the whole mess was still the best option.

She opened her mouth to list her objections, only for Peter's lips to abort them in another kiss, even more heated than the one before. She tried to clear her mind, only to realize half of the reasons she compiled were already washed away by the passion of the kiss. She tried to tell him the rest, only for his lips to clamp on hers once more, assaulting until even her name became hard to remember.

Her arguments buried deep before she could even utter them, she said nothing, just enjoyed the kiss. She couldn't help but feel disappointed as he pulled away. They started walking towards the bathroom, with her arm around his to get some balance. But even with the orgasm, she couldn't help but feel disappointed by cutting things short.

But not too much, as she had a lot of classes where she could use some tutoring from a sexy genius…


	11. Chapter 11

Peter had a persistent smile as he rode back to the school, not surprising considering he had spent a couple hours with an amazing redhead, enough to count as a second date -the third including the brief encounter in alter ego. Interacting with her through both identities was risky, especially the intimate way he was doing, risking real harm…

But it was too exhilarating to actually stop.

It had been more than a year since he had donned first donned his costume, and since then, most of the time, he had scrambled to hide his identity to prevent himself from the inevitable backlash, all the while treated as a coward because of his tendency to disappear in the slightest hint of danger. It was a useful perception at first, but it started to take its toll on him. Those small insults had a tendency to pile on.

Taking turns at being dismissed and celebrated, not to mention reviled from time to time as James J. Jameson's latest bullshit captured the city's imagination certainly didn't help any. At least, in this situation, she was being well-compensated with the pleasure he was giving her, if the way she looked after their intimate encounters were any indicator.

It was the time for the last class of the day when he arrived, which he managed to catch only after a quick dash, not wanting to be late for the last one after missing two in a row. He pulled his notebook and starts working on another invention the moment he sat, ignoring the dawdle of his teacher. He was satisfied with the utility of his web-grenades, and more inventions in a similar vein would have been helpful.

He needed to be prepared against his ever-growing list of enemies.

But before he fully immersed himself into the design process, he sent two quick messages, inviting his two favorite girls in the school to the gym depot after the classes. The encounter with MJ left him rather thirsty, and he hoped the girls would be interested in fulfilling that need.

Distracted by his design work, the class passed quickly. Then, the last bell rang, and the class rushed outside with all the enthusiasm of a bunch of prisoners, finally walking out after a long sentence. Peter didn't join them, instead, he gathered his notes. Only after they dispersed, he started walking towards the gym, his steps lazy as he expected both Liz and Gwen would wait until most of the students left the school, not wanting to be observed.

But he kept his pace slow even after the students dispersed because he wanted to see just how the girls would react to each others' presence without him. He expected some cat-fight, but he wanted to see if things would explode in the slightest opportunity.

A few minutes later, he was at the entrance of the gym depot he had specified, the door slightly ajar. For a while, he said nothing, observing the girls. Gwen was wearing simple jeans and shirt combo, something that would have been simple and unremarkable if she hadn't chosen them half a size too small, enhancing the sexiness in a way unintended by the designers.

Liz, on the other hand, followed her cheerleader reputation and went for a striking sexiness instead, wearing a plied skirt short enough to make the boys pray for a gust of wind, and a crop top that left her stomach open enough to reveal the fact that she was a true fitness nut.

As much as he enjoyed examining the way they dressed, the real reason was to watch they interacted. They weren't fighting, which was always a good sign, but from their pointed silence, it wasn't hard to guess it wasn't the case moments ago, and when Gwen's annoyance added to Liz's smug expression, it wasn't hard to guess who came on top in that fight.

Then he walked in, and locked the door behind as silent as he could manage, before continued deeper inside the room. Liz was the first one to notice his arrival. "So, big boy," she drawled, trying to sound sure of herself, but unable hide her surprise from him. "I see that you managed to convince miss virgin to take part in our little bet. Color me impressed."

Gwen's opened her mouth reflexively, intent on defending herself against Liz's snob, but he had already foreseen that, and had been walking towards Gwen before Liz started to speak. Her dig at Gwen to lose the soreness of her loss was also expected.

What he didn't know was the level of aggressiveness Gwen would show in response. The situation was already too extreme for her, only the surprise reveal of his identity followed by a spectacular session where he extended his abilities to the limit, convinced her to join in the situation. He wanted to be near her, giving the ability to interject if she reacted negatively.

And he had a handle on her emotions deep enough that when she opened her mouth, he could feel the explosion that would come without the help from his supernatural senses. He interjected, of course, as he had no intention of wasting all the effort he put to arrange the situation, however fun that effort might be.

His hand landed on Gwen's bottom before she could utter a word, followed by a short but heated kiss where the aggressive dance of his tongue created a comprehensive map of her mouth. Despite the shortness, Gwen was deliciously dazed when he pulled back. "Play nice," he whispered into her ear, and brushed her cheek with his lips as he pulled back, just to underline his message.

The disaster averted, he started walking towards Liz, but not alone. His arm was wrapped around Gwen's waist, bringing her along as well. "Something like that," he said, finally answering her question. "Let's just say she is open to the idea. Unless you don't prove too boring in the bed, of course."

He felt Gwen stiffen. Unsurprising, considering that their talk made no mention of threesomes, but she said nothing, not wanting to give another angle for Liz to insult. "That shouldn't be a problem," Liz said as she puffed her chest forward, creating a delicious view as her crop top strained with the motion. "I had proved what I had during the prom," she said, her smile turning vicious as her gaze slipped towards Gwen, reminding her the rather compromising position they shared. "And that's my line. I had to admit, our miss almost-virgin is beautiful, but it takes more than a nice body to make bedroom activities fun."

This time, Gwen jumped before he could prevent. "I can do everything you can do and more," Gwen challenged her heatedly, which relaxed Peter. A little challenge between the girls would make it fun, maybe even enough to exhaust him a bit, but on that, he wasn't really hopeful.

"Talk is cheap," Liz said with a smirk as she put her hand on his belt. "The question is, are you brave enough to prove it."

Once again, Peter said nothing, as he was enjoying the turn of the events. Only an idiot would play with the way things were developing under the circumstances. Gwen gasped, surprised, as Liz unbuckled his belt with a smoothness that belied experience. His pants went down, followed by his boxers, leaving his shaft in half-mast.

But it didn't keep its half-mast status for long after Liz wrapped her fingers around, bringing it to its final form in a few irregular beats. The silence stretched the room as Gwen tried to process the sudden turn of events, and Liz used the opportunity to fell on her knees.

"Let's see you doing this," Liz said before leaning forward. Peter tightened his grip around Gwen's waist, giving her the encouragement she needed even as he enjoyed Liz's deep cleavage, created by the extreme angle of view. He could feel Gwen's heartbeat spiking as Liz wrapped her lips around his shaft, slowly going forward, with the intention of devouring it completely.

For a moment, he enjoyed the treatment Liz was delivering, the warmth of the body leaning against his only making it more delicious. But as much as he enjoyed observing Liz's barely concealed breasts, he needed to make sure Gwen was on board with what was happening.

He found Gwen watching Liz with a sharp fascination, but he could see a hint of self-consciousness growing with every little trick Liz's lips applied to his girth. Luckily, another kiss saw the destruction of that before it grew enough to be a problem. Her arousal, however, just intensified further.

When he turned his gaze towards Liz once more, he wasn't exactly surprised to find her top pulled up, revealing her bra, dark blue, lacy, and thin enough to struggle while trying to contain her rather impressive mounds. Gwen didn't react it much, which ultimately wasn't surprising. Compared with Liz's ultimately unsuccessful efforts to devour his full length -with a significant margin-, the fact that she was wearing a skimpy bra was hardly shocking.

When Liz pulled back after several unsuccessful attempts, leaving his shaft twitching and glistening, he was tempted to grab her head impale her throat with his cock, relying on the force where her skills failed. Gwen snorted in amusement, making him delay that plan, curious what Liz was playing. Her skillful treatment at the roof during the prom was much better, suggesting that she had a reason for stopping that easily.

"Why are you snorting, princess," Liz said, her fake anger clearly overdone. However, Gwen missed that particular detail, too excited for the opportunity to tease Liz. "It's not like you can do better."

Peter put his hand on Gwen's hand protectively, which, unlike how it looked, was a calculated action to escalate the situation. Gwen bristled as Liz looked at his hand, her smirk telling the story of her disdain without needing a word. "Of course I can," Gwen bristled reflexively.

The rapid spread of the redness suggested that Gwen wasn't entirely happy with the blunder she had just committed, but she still lowered herself to her knees when Liz stood up, and gesturing Gwen to take her place.

On her knees, Gwen looked at his shaft with widened eyes, trying to understand the situation she had been pushed by her own bout of competitiveness. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, trying to gain some time to process the situation, but it only reflected her inexperience.

"Are you feeling nervous, princess?" Liz whispered into Gwen's ear, her earlier rage completely forgotten, but Gwen had more immediate concerns to take note of that sudden switch.

"Of course not," Gwen answered. Her voice disagreed vehemently. "Why would I be nervous?"

"I don't know," Liz answered even as she slid her hand through Gwen's soft hair. "But why else you would stand frigidly instead of treating yourself to such a magnificent example of manhood. Either that, or you accept that you can never match my performance."

Her trap was obvious, but Gwen somehow managed to miss it. Not a bad situation, but he took a tone to train Gwen on reading people. But later, he would have enough time for that. Right now, he had other priorities, such as, watching Gwen as she pushed her lips around his glistening crown. But even as he watched, he couldn't help but feel glad about the mistake that led Gwen discovering his identity. There was no way he could have prevented the situation from exploding beyond recovery otherwise.

Liz watched with a mischievous expression while Gwen moved deeper with a deceptive slowness, though the said mischievousness wasn't far away from the surface. Then, without a warning, she pressed her hand behind Gwen's head and pushed, skewering Gwen's throat with the intruding presence of his shaft.

A satisfied moan escaped his mouth as he felt her throat squeezing his shaft, a sound that was followed by Gwen's surprised cry, which was sufficiently muffled since her mouth was still full. "Good girl," Liz murmured into her ear. "It turns out that you can devour it completely. It's my loss."

Peter looked at Liz's smooth movements in surprise, betraying a practice suggesting that it wasn't the first time Liz had pulled that particular trick. In that case, the cheerleader team must have some interesting hazing rituals. Liz raised her head, her eyes met with his. Peter smiled, but made sure to put a dark edge behind it. While it was extremely fun to receive, he had no intention of letting Liz direct the flow.

From the sudden widening in her eyes, he understood that his message was received, but even then, her hand stayed in place, forcing Gwen's capabilities to deep throat, ignoring her struggles to breathe.

When she finally let her go, Gwen fell on all fours, trying to catch her breath. He would've thought her angry if it wasn't for his enhanced senses, telling him that he and Liz weren't the only people in the room that enjoyed the treatment.

But that wasn't a reason to change his plan to punish Liz. He said nothing, just leaned down. Gwen raised her head in reflex, and he kissed her softly on the cheek before standing straight once more. Without saying anything else, he walked to a low table he could use as a seat and sit down.

Both Liz and Gwen was looking at him, trying to understand what he was trying to do. "Liz, come here," he ordered, the sharpest voice he used against a non-criminal. It wasn't a loud voice, but it demanded obedience nevertheless, calibrated perfectly with the assistance of his spider-sense. Liz had covered half of the distance between them before realizing she was following his command, but even with her face alight with realization, she still completed the distance without a word of protest.

A finger landed on her chin, caressing gently. She shivered. "Oh, Lizzy, that was very rude, ambushing Gwen like that."

For a second, Liz was unable to say anything under the spell of his touch. In doubt, she reached towards her queen-bee attitude. "It was nothing, just a bit of teasing between friends, right, Gwen? And you were even able to handle it… Almost."

Gwen prepared to answer, but Peter was quicker. "Regardless, it was something quite rude. Maybe even enough to warrant a punishment? What do you think, Gwen?"

"Punishment," both repeated in surprise, though Gwen's voice carried no small amount of vindication.

A sharp crack echoed in the room as Peter's hand connected with Liz's thigh, naked thanks to her short skirt. "Was I talking to you?" he said to Liz with a dismissive glance before turning to Gwen. "Yes, punishment," he said. Gwen was indecisive at first, but she showed that vindictiveness wasn't a completely alien concept when she ignored Liz's begging glare to give a nod to his side.

"Yes, punishment," Peter repeated. "Lay on my lap," he said, his voice laced with the weight of command once more.

"This is ridiculous," Liz complained, but her argument had no effect on the speed she followed his order, laying across his lap just as he ordered.

Peter's answer came in the form of a slap landing on her bottom, which was barely covered by her short skirt. "Is it?" he said. "I believe it's no less than you deserve with the childish way you messed with poor Gwen. Don't you agree?"

"I do," Gwen answered even as she walked closer for a better vantage point, happy with the reversal. A second spank landed on Liz's bottom, this time hard enough to extract a short cry before she could control her voice. Gwen spoke once more. "However, I don't think the spanks are effective. Not with all that clothing in the way, reducing the impact."

"Good idea," Peter answered, happy with her initiative. "Then, why don't you come and reduce some of the protection she was enjoying. After all, it's your right as the wronged party."

A deep blush spread over her face at the suggestion, showing that despite her confidence, she was acutely aware that she was wading in unknown waters, not surprising since it was just days ago that she lost her virginity. But a nod from Peter proved enough to make her push through her indecision, and she walked until she was behind Liz.

Gwen's fingers found the hem of Liz's skirt, slowly pulling it up, revealing her reddened skin, partially covered by her fragile panties. Peter raised his hand, about to land another spank on her tight bottom, only to be stopped by Gwen. A smirk on her face, almost drowned by her blush, she grabbed Liz's panties and pulled them down until they were around her knees.

Peter threw another spank, this time his hand making contact with her naked bottom, extracting a sharp cry, loud enough to gather a crowd if the school wasn't already empty. "That hurt," she murmured petulantly.

"It wouldn't be a punishment without some pain, Lizzy," he answered even as he examined the redness his naked touch left on her pale bottom. It required a matching mark, he decided as his hand landed on her other cheek with equal velocity. Another cry left her mouth.

The pattern continued until the count reached ten. "That's enough for warm-up," Peter said. "Are you ready for the real part?"

"It's getting ridi-" Liz started, but another spank cut her off. But even as he landed that, his attention was on Gwen, watching her reaction, happy to find excitement and desire over everything…

* * *

 **Author notes: As Peter continues to learn, letting his identity get discovered comes with some interesting side-benefits.**

 **I hope you enjoy the way the story is developing. Just a note, after this and following chapter, I'll slowly move Liz towards the background, because honestly, to do something really interesting, there is a lot of development that I need to put on her. And considering the availability of the interesting ladies, both in Spider-Man stories and wider Marvel universe, I'm disinclined to do so.**

 **As usual, you can find my original writing in P/atreon / dirk_grey, including my new Medieval Fantasy story with a gamer twist.**


	12. Chapter 12

Peter gestured Gwen to get rid of her clothes, a rather callous action that might have created an argument between them, if Gwen hadn't been equally excited by the treatment Liz was receiving. She was quick to get rid of her outer layer, revealing her crimson underwear, a sharp choice that contrasted amazingly with her pale skin and blonde hair. Moreover, its rather unsubstantial cut left quite a bit of her skin free to be admired. She blushed, slightly uncomfortable with her aggressive choice even under the circumstances.

"Beautiful," he murmured, helping her to feel confident, not that it was a struggle for him to say that. With her innocent beauty and perfect fitness, she was a masterpiece that any man would be lucky to have. Then, he spanked Liz once more, highlighting the rather unbelievable state of his luck.

Encouraged by his words, Gwen took a step closer, next to Liz once more. She looked at him questioningly, he nodded, and her hand exploded on Liz's bottom, filling the room with another sharp crack, one that was markedly different from the earlier ones.

"That's too much-" Liz said, trying to argue, but Peter cut it short with another spank of his own, this time actually stiff enough to make pain overwhelm her pleasure, reminding her that there was no place for disobedience. He received an annoyed glare in reply, but it was short-lived against his warning glare, promising more if she insisted to continue with this approach.

The next move Liz did was a nod of obedience, giving Gwen the opportunity to spank her bottom once more. Peter decided to reward Liz, and when her hand landed on her bottom once more, he grabbed the edge of her underwear, and pulled it sharply. The fragile fabric had no chance to resist his supernaturally enhanced strength, leaving her bottom bare.

He slipped his fingers inside, but his eyes were locked with Gwen, happy to find mostly excitement there. Gwen continued slapping her bottom, rather stiff as well, while he started exploring her tunnel. Liz's cries got louder and louder, with pleasure taking an ever-increasing share of it.

It didn't take a genius to see Gwen was starting to feel neglected, so he gestured her to lean closer, which she did rather enthusiastically. He pulled her bra down, revealing her perfectly shaped breasts, before leaning forward and capturing her nipple between his lips, biting and licking in an alternating manner, and soon, Gwen's cries melded into Liz's, creating a rather arousing symphony, one that brought his erection to painful levels.

Luckily, there was no reason for him to suffer it helplessly. "It's time for the real event," he said as he stopped playing with Gwen's nipple, and gestured her to take a step back.

Before Liz could question what he had meant, he pushed her on the floor, his arms already around her waist to prevent a painful collision. Liz found herself on all fours, her naked bottom raised invitingly. He lost no time before taking a position behind her, pushing inside without warning, pushing his full length, which extracted a satisfied moan, no less loud than her earlier pained cries.

"It doesn't seem like a punishment," Gwen murmured jealously, not liking the sudden change. Her arms were crossed underneath her breasts in a disapproving manner, but considering her nakedness, it had the opposite impact. Still glistening with his earlier kisses, framed by her fragile yet beautiful arms, it was a beautiful sight.

"Don't worry," Peter answered even as he slammed inside her rapidly, not bothering to wait for her to adapt to his presence, though that wasn't exactly a punishment, as shown by Liz's repeated moans, not strained by pain. His fingers worked wonders to loosen her. "The punishment is about to come."

Peter slammed inside her repeatedly for the next few minutes, but with an interesting detail. Whenever her cries of pleasure rose, his pace slowed down just a bit, making sure she moved to a deeper state of pleasure, but leaving her unable to take the last step. Gwen smirked as she realized what it was going on, and took a seat close to him to watch the show that was about to happen.

She even decided to give him a small reward. She sat with her legs open, and pushed her panties to the side, enough to leave the entrance of her folds unbarred, and her fingers disappeared inside, while her other hand playing with her breast. It was a beautiful sight, one that was only enhanced by her shy expression.

Liz didn't pay attention to that, occupied with the increasing pleasure she was enjoying. But it took a while for her to realize that a climax was still far away despite her ever-increasing pleasure, and at that point, she was dangling at the edge, her mind already dominated with pleasure. Once again, it was only possible with the spider-sense, allowing him to read her exact status before even she cold, allowing him to keep her at the edge easily.

"Peter," she moaned in a helpless need. "Please let me cum."

"Not until you apologize to Gwen," he answered, not changing his pace even for a moment.

She turned to Gwen, only then realizing the state she was in. Peter had to slow down immediately, because Liz tightened even further as she realized the exact state Gwen was in, her naked body shining under an errant ray of light as she slowly teased her body.

"Gwen, I'm sorry-" Liz managed to say before interrupted by a moan. He spanked her, reminding that it wasn't enough. "It was unacceptable to do something like that. Please accept my apologies," she cried, the need overflowing in her voice.

"Good attempt," Peter said before Gwen, who had already forgotten her earlier irritation and was watching the proceedings with fascination, could speak and absolve Liz of her guilt. He had something rather more interesting in mind. "However, empty words won't cut it. You need to convince her you're really sorry."

"How?" Liz exclaimed, the frustration mounting under his assault.

"I have just the idea," he said with a smirk before turning to Gwen, gesturing her to sit in front of Liz. Gwen looked empty for a moment before she realized what he was implying, her blush invading her face once more, this time with an intensity he had never seen in her face.

But after a moment's hesitation, she followed his direction, slowly sauntering to the position, her hesitancy could be mistaken for intentional eroticism for anyone unfamiliar with her tells. She stopped in front of Liz, and let her panties fall around her ankles before she took the position.

Distracted with more immediate concerns, Liz hadn't noticed Gwen's movement until she saw her panties. Liz twisted her neck to look at him, her expression incredulous. "It's a good way to apologize," Peter said like he was talking about something ordinary. Meanwhile, Gwen took her position directly in front of Liz, ready for the next step. Peter nodded her to proceed.

"But-" Liz started to argue, but Peter cut the rest of the words off in the form of another spank, even stronger than the previous ones. Their eyes met for a second, but after staring down many villains, her impotent anger just flowed around him, every slide inside her dousing its fire. It was hard to maintain an angry disposition when struggling at the edge of the arousal. Acceptance blossomed in her eyes and she turned back, only to meet with Gwen's glistening slit, waiting conveniently for her.

However, the moment wasn't without a surprise for him as well. Gwen, showing an initiative he wouldn't have expected, slid her hands through Liz' hair and pulled her down without a warning, a reversal of the earlier moment, forcing Liz to caress her nether lips with the unsure movements of her tongue.

It wasn't hard to deduce that, for all her surprise, Liz was enjoying the moment quite a bit, her emotions an open book to read, not to mention the way she clamped around his girth wasn't exactly hard to decipher. Peter felt the desire to push deeper into her, triggering an orgasm that promised to be spectacular, but he held himself back, not wanting to break the conditions he had set earlier for Liz. She wasn't going to have her own release before Gwen was satisfied with hers.

However, it didn't mean he couldn't use other methods to make the process more fun. He caught Gwen's eyes and gestured her to Liz's breasts, which was barely held back by her bra as they shake with his every push. This time, Gwen didn't hesitate as she released Liz's bra and revealed her dangling breasts, her small pink areolas deliciously surrounding her rock hard nipples. Peter traced his lips with enthusiasm, desiring a taste of them, but unfortunately, the position didn't allow for it.

Minutes passed at that exact position, with Liz servicing Gwen while Peter did his best to keep her at the edge of an impending orgasm, enough to frustrate her if her out of control moans were any indicator. Still, she didn't slow down the treatment Gwen was receiving, understanding the conditions for the end of her delicious torture.

After several minutes, Gwen's expression shifted suddenly, or it would have been suddenly if he hadn't been able to read her every micro-expression, alerting him about her impending climax. Liz, on the other hand, panting under the sweet torture he had been subjecting her to, didn't realize until Gwen's sweet juices soaked her tongue. Peter decided Liz had deserved a release and sped up. Already at the edge, it took only a few deep strokes into her to trigger her release.

And what a release it was. She collapsed on the ground, gasping and moaning incoherently, her trembling arms and legs unable to support her. She was desperately clamping around him to steal his seed, but he didn't allow it, not willing to take the risk with her.

Peter was tempted to continue pushing inside her until she lost consciousness, but from her expression, he could see that Gwen had a better idea. He pulled out even as Gwen grabbed Liz's arm and make her lay on her back before laying on top of her, their breasts pressing against each other as the most delicious sandwich he had ever seen.

He didn't need an invitation to slide his erection, still glistening wit Liz's juices, into Gwen, earning a rather loud moan from her. Already enjoying the aftermath of a climax given by the lips of her partner-in-crime, it didn't take long for Gwen to start breathing hard, which turned into deep moans as his shaft invaded her depth without even bothering to give her time to adapt to his presence.

He was expecting her cries to fill the room, but that was prevented by an unexpected source. Liz, managed to throw the effects of her climax enough to move once again, grabbed Gwen and pulled her into a deep, heated kiss. Gwen stiffened, somehow feeling shy about a kiss despite the much more intimate one she had received from Liz moments ago. Peter didn't slow down his assault of course, each push echoing in the room as he drilled her.

Already riding the aftershocks her earlier orgasm, it didn't take long for Gwen to climax, but this time, he was sufficiently close to the edge as well. He barely managed to pull back before exploding, and quickly changed position, and moved to the other side, where they were still occupied with the kiss.

But the presence of his shaft was enough to steal their attention. Liz was the first one to open her mouth, and he pushed his shaft inside, deep enough to tickle the back of her throat, slamming repeatedly as he drove closer to the climax. Gwen leaned down, licking the part that he was unable to squeeze into Liz' throat.

He managed to pull out before the climax, spraying both of their faces with his seed, covering their faces white. Then, he pulled back, watching them licking it from each other's faces, both girl too deep into the cavern of pleasure to feel self-conscious about it.

"How is your meal," Peter asked as he took a seat in the nearest available surface.

"Delicious," Liz answered as she took a break from her meal. Meanwhile, Gwen just blushed, realizing the vulgarity of the situation, but that vulgarity didn't prevent her from continuing to lick his seed from Liz' face, enjoying the taste.

He waited until they were finished with the task. "Why don't you get a fresh dose if you enjoyed the taste that much."

"A good idea," Liz said, but while she was busy with quipping, Gwen already jumped up to her feet, and was first one to reach his shaft, her lips clamping around instantly. Liz, with an amused smirk in her face, just repeated her earlier treatment, pushing her until she was skewered with his presence. But this time, the only reaction Gwen gave was an enthusiastic moan.

Liz let her pull out when she started to struggle due to lack of oxygen, but when Gwen pulled away, she was quick to steal her place. "You hungry slut!" Gwen exclaimed, but instead of trying to pull her away, she pushed her forward, returning the favor.

The exact scene repeated several times until Peter interjected. "Come on, girls," he said as he grabbed their hair and pulled them back, then positioned his shaft between their breasts. He hadn't needed to give a prompt for the girls to start giving an amazing titjob, squeezed between two amazing pairs, their tongue darting out to caress the crown.

In this life, there were some things a man not supposed to resist, and a desire to release while under the influence of a collaborative titjob from two sexy blondes while their tongues battled around the tip of his manhood was one of those things. "It's time," he warned them after several minutes of enthusiastic treatment.

This time, Gwen was faster, and covered the tip of his shaft with her mouth, mostly catching his release in her mouth, though a trickle escaped from the side of her mouth. "You greedy slut," Liz exclaimed as she grabbed Gwen's hair, and captured her lips before she could swallow her loot. Peter just watched as the girls conducted an erotic battle, and not entirely serious as well if he were to trust their wandering hands.

Peter spend a minute watching the amazing battle in front of him, using the opportunity to recover. Then, he took his place behind Liz, but he had an ulterior motive for it.

Liz purred in satisfaction when she felt his arms wrapping around him, which was enhanced further as he pressed his shaft against her entrance. Not that she could have said anything in any case, with her ability to argue was compromised by Gwen's strategic presence, and with her path of escape cut by his hands. Liz had no choice but to but to accept his presence.

He pushed forward, filling her insides while Gwen stood at the other side of her, pulling her head down to her chest to muffle her voice between her perfectly-shaped breasts. He grabbed Liz's bottom, squeezing to enjoy her plumpness, hard enough to leave a mark.

The school-life wasn't all bad, he admitted.


	13. Chapter 13

A bored sigh escaped from his mouth as Peter stepped into the basement, where he managed his technological tinkering. It wasn't as safe as a stand-alone laboratory in a hard-to-reach location, but it was the best he could do with the resources he had. He still had quite a bit of money from his last drug bust, but that was not even enough to rent a semi-decent space officially for the purpose. Buying actual equipment was nothing more than a pipe dream without millions of dollars to fund him.

Though, in the end, it was just a mental exercise, as there was no way he could spend that much money without triggering a tax audit. For a foreseeable future, he was stuck working in his improvised lab. It wasn't as bad as it could be, though. At least, Aunt May lacked the technological aptitude to distinguish between high school science projects and chemically-enhanced web grenades.

He took a seat and started tinkering, as much as he would have preferred to have an after-school date with Gwen rather than spend his time studying. Though, he doubted that it was possible after the hours they had spent in the storage room, with Liz in tow.

Also, even if she was up for it, he needed to focus on his tinkering. Having a diverse arsenal was important, as shown by the late-night encounter where he saved the Black Cat from Kingpin's hands. It wasn't that the grenades were an absolute necessity, he could have handled the situation in several different directions, but the same couldn't be said if there were any civilians to target.

He might have embraced a more utilitarian lifestyle which others might call selfish, but it ultimately didn't change his perspective in life. With great power, came great responsibility. Being a masked vigilante was not the best career he could take. He was sure that if he focused, he could earn his doctorate in two or three years, which could be leveraged for a cushy position in Stark Industries or Oscorp, where he spent his life designing weapons and other dangerous stuff, to ultimately end up in the hands of the gang members that were targeting the civilians. But he still roamed the streets during the night to prevent muggings and other violent crimes.

Still, there was one more important thing. He needed to up his game.

His spider powers were giving him a huge advantage, but as some of the villains he fought against until now showed, they weren't exactly unbeatable. Until now, he managed to succeed through a mixture of perseverance, cleverness, and, as much as he didn't want to admit, a copious amount of luck. But he needed a stronger edge if he wanted to keep winning against villains who were targeting him with tailored equipment to disable his natural gifts. He didn't want to imagine what would happen if a villain discovered his identity, and took someone close to him as a hostage.

He buckled up, and focused on the designs in front of him. To prevent something like that, he needed to be prepared…

* * *

Several hours later, he was swinging above the streets of New York, looking for an opportunity to test some of his newest inventions, but that hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. The only thing that he came across was the occasional mugger, which he managed to handle without relying on his bag of tricks.

But then, he saw a familiar figure slipping through shadows of the rooftops, dressed in all-black leather, and a smirk appeared on his face. Maybe the night wasn't going to be as bad as he first feared.

He was good in hiding, enough to overcome the disadvantage of his bright red and blue costume, meaning he was able to follow Felicia while staying undetected. He was tempted to ambush her to teach her another lesson on top of the buildings, but he stayed back, because it would be too repetitive. Instead, he followed her to see where she would end up, ready to stop in case she planned to change her usual operating model.

In the end, he wasn't very surprised when she stopped on the roof of one of the newer museums in the city, displaying art for the benefit of starving children in Africa. Or more accurately, it was what they claimed, but when Peter had delved a bit deeper, suspicious of the claim, and he had learned that the operation was backed by Wilson, a.k.a. the Kingpin, making it yet another money-laundering scheme for his drug and weapon trade.

The perfect target for Felicia, even if her Robin Hood fantasy ended prematurely in taking from the rich part.

He had no intention of stopping her heist, as not only if there was a deserving victim, the Kingpin was it, but also such a thievery would get police-attention, which wouldn't exactly help Kingpin's money-laundering scheme, especially after Peter inflamed the situation further with a few anonymous emails to the police, and more importantly, the insurance company. He had a feeling that the latter would be much more enthusiastic about revealing the lawlessness, considering the multi-million payout that they would be responsible otherwise.

It was a pity that it would never result with the arrest of Wilson, as even he was idiotic enough to leave a paper trail obvious enough police to pick, which definitely was not, he had too many friends in the high places to kill the investigation before it reached the conclusion. Corruption was the most difficult crime to stamp out, even for a superhero. He could have used his hacking skills combined with some discreet tracking, but that would make him a target to a lot of powerful people, which would have used their influence to brand him a villain.

He had enough heat it due to Jameson's personal misguided crusade, and didn't need the strategic involvement from more calculated minds. It was for the best for him to known as an enthusiastic thief-taker, at least until he had better clout.

With a shook of his head, he dismissed his train of thought on the complicated landscape of high-society crime, instead of focusing on the inviting way Black Cat's costume wrapped around her toned hips as she sneaked into the museum through a window on the top floor. The perfect way to distract himself from the weight of trying to fix the city through a one-man crusade.

He stayed perched on the roof while Felicia sneaked deeper into the museum, watching her disappear through the first door into the room. Instead of following her, he raised the phone he had modified himself, several times more powerful than a top of the line commercial one, using it to penetrate into the wireless connection of the building, which he then used to link into the private one that controlled the cameras and other security measures, tasking it with hacking the security cameras temporarily, just enough to ensure that his attempts to educate his target stayed unrecorded.

It was the fourth floor when he caught up with the Black Cat, on a balcony with a direct view to the atrium which held some of the less-prestigious items, while she carefully examined while guards patrolled. Curious, he thought as he slowly closed the distance between them, using her distraction to a great benefit. Why would she target a section that would host the items of secondary priority? Ultimately, he dismissed it with a shrug, assuming one of the items had caught her fancy. After all, she was a thief with a very particular taste.

He was about to close in on her, when he received a notification from his homemade hacking device, informing that it failed to penetrate into the building security. A surprising development, as he wasn't expecting to find an effective firewall in a museum, even if it was a front for money laundering like he expected. Feeling curious, he allowed his device to link back to his home cluster.

The expanded computational capabilities, finally allowed Peter to break through the encryption that kept him away from the main server, most importantly, the security cameras. A quick fiddling ensured that the security cameras were offline for the next few hours, recordings filling with the loops of the last thirty minutes. He was still curious about the reason for the enhanced security, but it could wait until he taught a lesson to the cat that was being particularly naughty tonight.

With that resolved, he continued sneaking closer, until she was just a step away, feeling mischievous. "Good evening, Felicia," he whispered, his smile threatening to break through his mask.

Startled, she turned to face him with a speed only possible with adrenaline pumping in her veins, her claw slashing through the space that held his throat a moment ago, cutting through the air instead. Even discounting the spider-sense, Peter knew enough to avoid the reflexive attack from a thief that he startled in the middle of a heist.

He waited until the claw passed his face, but grabbed her waist before she could complete the motion. The shock on her face turned particularly delicious when he pushed her against the wall, her breath escaping explosively. "Spider-Man," she gasped, but that was all she allowed before she could gather herself. Her face softened, and her lips formed an inviting smile. "You wouldn't bother a hapless poor trying to survive in this poor world, would you?"

He would have liked to send a matching smirk back, but unfortunately, the mask would have prevented that. He chose to show his reply in a more direct manner, pushing forward, locking her between his body and the wall. "What do you think, Felicia," he answered.

Funny enough, reminding her that he knew her identity only made her relax, reminding her that he hadn't needed to bust her in the middle of a job to make life hard for her. "I think we can come to an arrangement," she whispered seductively. "Maybe a few pieces of uncut diamonds," she added mischievously, more to tease him than actually trying to subvert him through material gain.

"No," he murmured, enjoying the way she stiffened under his touch. "On the contrary, I think you deserve to be punished for trying to mislead a poor hero, who is doing his best to dissuade you from a wicked path…" She only relaxed when his hands wandered lower, dancing over her hips, tight and plump thanks to the endless nights she spent jumping from roof to roof, understanding the nature of punishment he was about to deliver.

"Oh, my," she murmured in exaggerated arousal that wouldn't have gone amiss in a porn movie, though it wasn't enough to hide her actual arousal. "Then why don't you let me go for a moment, and we can move back to my apartment for some … education."

"Negative," he whispered, caressing her earlobe with his lips while his fingers found the zipper of her leather suit, slowly dragging it down, revealing the enticing fairness of her skin for his gaze. "I don't see any reason to delay it."

"But-" she tried to argue, only to be cut by his hand, sneaking underneath her suit, squeezing her nipple in a warning. A gasp escaped her mouth, one that made his uniform uncomfortably tight.

"I would be careful if I were you," he said, pointing at the security guard that was patrolling a few floors below. "Unless you want a spectator for your punishment, of course."

She stiffened at the reminder, which he used to a great effect, sliding his hands underneath her suit in the shoulder area, pulling it away. Without the support, it was easy to pull it down, leaving her half-naked in the middle of the museum.

"Security cameras," she murmured in alarm, but he put his finger on her plump lips, the other busy caressing her naked breasts, giving her an approximation of a coverage, which barely helped as her suit slid down until it pooled around her ankles, leaving her completely naked.

"Already handled," he answered even as he reached his suit, letting his erection go free for a moment, before he hid it once again in the nearest available spot, namely, her wet tunnel, which was extremely tight without any foreplay. Still, he pushed forward without mercy, after all, it wouldn't be punishment without a sprinkle of pain.

The muffled yelp that escaped her mouth despite her best efforts to keep silent was delicious, enough to trigger an early release if it wasn't for the rather impressive experience he had managed to acquire recently. However erotic it was to take a notorious thief painfully in the middle of the heist, it wasn't enough to trigger an early victory from her side, not when he had spent his early evening with two sexy girls in the school gym.

It didn't take long for her to start squirming as he invaded her insides with rapid smooth movements, slowing in the last second to prevent the explosion of noise that would have resulted from their flesh hitting together. Her head turned as she sent a begging glance to his side, biting her lips desperately to keep her moans silent. Peter used the opportunity to push her forward, until her legs were pressing against the iron railings, her upper body dangling dangerously.

She tried to squirm away, but his grip was iron, not allowing her to move, making her tits dangle freely towards the atrium, needing only an upward glance by a security guard to be seen. Peter trusted his spider-sense to warn him beforehand, but Felicia had no such insurance, making fear a primary component of her feelings.

Interestingly, it only made her tighten more, her wetness reaching to an impressive degree, allowing him to slide without a problem. She tried to grab the iron railing, but her hands were trembling too hard to maintain a grip. He shifted his grasp from her shoulder to her hair, while letting her hair to move even more forward, the painful hold he maintained on her hair the only thing that prevented her from toppling down.

And, without a warning, she climaxed, pulling both hands away from the railing to press against her mouth. He didn't know it was the trust she had on his reflexes or absentmindedness from the pleasure she was feeling, but the only thing that prevented her from a painful fall was his arm, wrapping around her torso. Nevertheless, it was a move deserving a punishment, Peter thought as he let go of her hair, instead plopping his thumb into her puckered hole.

Her pained gasp echoed in the museum, cutting through her hands. Her face was colored with panic, but Peter wasn't alarmed, as unlike her, he wasn't distracted enough to miss the plugs in his ear, which prevented the guard from hearing the revealing cry.

"Maybe you do want to be seen," he whispered nonchalantly while he continued to slam, letting the sound of their flesh merging to rise. Felicia didn't comment on it. Or more accurately, couldn't, as she was too busy trying to keep her pained yelps in while he added a second finger to the first one, loosening her tight hole.

"You … are … so … big …" she managed to squeeze between her muffled cries, evidence to the rapid build-up of the second wave of pleasure that invaded her body, signaling another climax. It was soon after that she was gushing a torrent, surrendering to his touch completely.

This time, he waited until her tremors subsided before he grabbed her hair once again, but this time, pulled her from there, and with a small twist later, she found herself on her knees in front of him, this time her back pressing against the railings. Her only warning was his shaft pressing against her lips before he started slamming into her throat, stretching her throat while forcing her to taste her own juices, preventing her from breathing.

It took ten long minutes for him to climax, a moment where he kept testing her ability to hold her breath, pulling only when she was about to faint due to lack of oxygen, never allowing her more than a breath.

And she loved it, evidenced by the couple of climaxes she managed to attain, the second while he pulled out at the last second, painting her body with his seed, marking his territory with pride. It was a good view, the notorious thief, dressed only in her mask, and his seed. "Consider yourself punished," he said in a dismissive manner. "I think you earned my mercy for this heist. Now, go and take the item of your choice," he said. After all, she was stealing from Kingpin. A more deserving victim was hard to find.

"Thank you, sir," she said, her lips quirking in amusement at the last second, one that tempted him to punish her even harder.

The opportunity came really quick. She reached to pick her costume, only to be prevented by his warding gesture. "Let's add a little challenge to our game, no costume," he added, enjoying the sudden blush that spread to her face. "You still have your mask, after all." Still, her disobedient gaze didn't survive for long against his determined stance. With a full-body blush, she started to climb down, extremely careful not to be seen. Peter leaned back, enjoying the show…

* * *

 **Author notes: After all, crime-fighting doesn't always have to be a boring affair...**

 **A small break with the Felicia before the focus shifts to one of the most popular redheads of all time, where she faces the great mystery of her two lovers. Will she be able to connect the dots, or will she continue languishing in confusion while she learned the true meaning of pleasure...**

 **As usual, you can find my original writing in P/atreon / dirk_grey, including my new Medieval Fantasy story with a gamer twist.**


	14. Chapter 14

Mary Jane knew that the message she had sent yesterday evening in a moment of fancy couldn't be counted amongst the smartest decision she had done, especially when the target replied quickly in agreement, with a promise to pick her up early in the morning, to not to miss the golden light of the early morning.

"It's just a professional photoshoot, nothing to be worried about," she repeated to herself as she waited in front of the door, a small bag with several sets of clothes in her hands. But even as she murmured, she knew that it was a poor excuse. After all, her resolution didn't last long in their tutoring session. And the make things even worse, she had nothing external to blame. No alcohol, no party, no romantic dinner to awe her, not even a rival to make jealous…

Just pure, unadulterated lust.

And she wasn't delusional enough to claim that she actually wanted to hold back, after all, it that had been the case, she would have chosen something a bit more modest than skin-tight jeans and a white crop-top that competed fairly in the department of tightness, its sexiness further enhanced by the deep cleavage it was sporting. Her obvious lack of bra was just the icing in the cake. She had a leather jacket with her, but she kept it in her hand. She knew exactly the impression it would create, but the heat pooling between her legs whenever she remembered their little game in the classroom, where he had shown the extent of skill his long fingers had.

If only she could discover why it also made her mind flash the best sex she ever had with a different man, her hero, on a rooftop, under the moonlight…

Her heartbeat sped up the moment she heard the distinctive sound of the engine, signaling Peter was just around the corner. She hated herself when her hands rose in their own accord to pull down her shirt, deepening her cleavage further. When he pulled in front of her, and removed his helmet to remove his confident smirk, she realized the true depth of her mistake, but it was too late to back out.

"Morning, MJ," he said as he slid off the bike.

"M-morning, tiger," she replied, annoyed by her involuntary stammer. She had been trying to awe her, not to look like an infuriated high schooler! She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the effect his chuckle had on her heartbeat, but while she was busy with that, he was already in front of her, one of his hands wrapped around her wrist.

Her lips parted open as he leaned forward, ignoring her orders to enjoy the rush his hot breath brought, anticipating a kiss; which was why she was surprised when he pulled back just as sudden, leaving a piece of metal in her hand. "You wouldn't mind driving, would you?" he asked, the smirk on his face telling her that he was very aware of the effect he had left.

"Might be interesting," she answered as she walked past him, making sure to put an excessive sway on her hips. When she checked him through the reflection of the bike, she was happy to see his gaze glued on her hips. He wasn't the only one that knew how to tease.

With a smirk, she put the jacket on, and sent a matching smirk before her face hidden by the helmet. "Hop on, tiger," she said as she patted the backseat, which Peter took, his smirk still on his face. She didn't blame him, after all, what was there to be unsatisfied. She was well-aware of her sexiness, and his hands around her naked stomach had preferential access to said sexiness.

"Where to," Mary Jane asked.

"I know a beach, it's not a short drive, but it's not crowded, and has a nice view. It'll be a good backdrop for your headshots." He quickly described the route, and as soon as he was finished, MJ turned on the engine, and they were throttling through the streets of New York with impressive speed.

She felt herself relax as the freedom of the road infused her, the oppressive cover of buildings around them getting lower and lower. It didn't help to reduce the heat pooling between her legs of course, but at least, his hands stayed still.

And the excitement only enhanced the pleasure she was feeling, especially when they first moved to the highway, crisscrossing between the other vehicles with great speed, occasional laughter of trill escaping her mouth, though she would lie if she said she hadn't felt any panic. But as usual, Peter chose that moment to act supportive, gently tightening his grip to convey support. She was glad that they were moving too fast for anyone to get a good view of her, because her nipples were rock-hard in excitement, and her crop-top was rather poor in hiding it.

Ironically, the drive started to get monotonous as the distance between them and the city increased, the emptiness of the road only broken by occasional car. Soon, Peter started to move like he was able to read her mind. His motions were subtle at first, easily to be mistaken for looking for a better grip, but even then, it brought a strong desire to the surface.

The effect only increased when she left the highway for a country road, its earthen surface filled with bumps, each jump adding a small jolt of pleasure to her already heated body. She wasn't surprised when his hands started to dance over her stomach with a greater purpose in that exact moment; his impressive ability to read her exact mood was starting to become familiar.

But familiar didn't mean ineffective, as she learned the hard way as his little finger slipped under her shirt, caressing the edge of her breasts, just enough to conjure images of more heated memories. A part of her wanted to throw him off, the other part of her wanted to bring his hands higher to give her poor breasts, beaten down by the wind, the cover they needed. Neither his sharp presence, nor his erect manhood pressing against her back helped her to contain her emotions.

A part of her wanted that filtering out all these sensations was an option, but she knew that it was an exercise in futility, especially when even her own body didn't cooperate with her, her arousal continuing to build up. As the bumps on the roads got worse, so did the vibrations that were filling her body, to a point that she started to contemplate an early stop to relieve the pressure; though with or without Peter's assistance, she wasn't sure.

Soon, the drive, assisted by his wandering hands, turned into a special kind of hell, every bump, every crevice on the road making her body burning for a release that she couldn't attain without a surrender. Calling for an early stop was getting more and more attractive by each passing second, while having a victory in their little game dwindled in importance.

Before she could decide, he tapped her shoulder, and pointed to a small cove, hidden by rock formation well enough that she would have missed without him pointing. Perfect place for a photoshoot, though much to her shame, it was the second use case that popped into her mind, the first one with a well-deserved mature rating.

Once again, Peter was quicker to act. Before she could decide one way or another, Peter had already jumped off the bike, and pulled his camera from the side bag. "Don't move, the sight is perfect," he called, and before she could react, his finger was already pressing the shutter button, a strong click informing her that the view had been immortalized even before she could remove the helmet.

"Excellent," he said, his eyes falling down to her chest, which reminded her of the rather obscene view she had on display, enough to make her glad that she was still wearing a helmet, as it hid her sudden blush. After all, not only her thin shirt was a poor cover for her stiff nipples, but his earlier caresses had left it out of alignment, making her display a generous dash of the breast under her shirt as well.

She reached to fix it, but she met with a quirked eyebrow with an underlined challenge, managing to put a dose of playful pressure on her courage without even saying something. A part of her wanted to pull back to her shell, but her competitiveness proved to be stronger; the same drive that drove her to drive a unique career to herself despite all the detractors.

And since she was going to take the challenge, she was going to take it in a significant way. She pulled the helmet off, her crimson hair flowing freely, creating a view that he immortalized repeatedly. He took several photos with the helmet locked under her arm, focusing on creating the quintessential image of the dirty biker girl.

If she was going to be naughty, she was going to be the naughtiest she could be.

Soon, she dropped the helmet temporary, and her leather jacket permanently. Technically, it was wrapped around her waist, but around there, it barely served its aim to keep her body covered. Under the gentle lights of the morning sun, wearing a thin top, MJ knew that she looked spectacular. The bulge in Peter's pants definitely agreed.

Still, despite his clear enjoyment of the moment, his directions stayed more on minor posing and expression details, not trying to convince her to undress more. She would have liked him to do otherwise, giving her plausible deniability on the next steps. The worst was the smirk on his face, confirming that it was completely intentional on his part.

MJ decided to push the envelope. Her fingers slid down over her naked stomach until they reached the button of her jeans, popping it up with one smooth movement, pulling the zipper down just a moment later, just enough to reveal the edge of the black lacy lingerie she had chosen for the day.

Then, the same restless fingers found the hem of her shirt, folding it a couple of times until it gave a hint of her spectacular breasts for the camera.

"You look tasty enough to eat," Peter murmured between the commands. Previous times, it made her blush and feel shy. But this time, with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, with her heart already thumping with excitement; it had the opposite effect. With a sudden burst of confidence, she turned her back, and with a smooth motion, get rid of her top, leaving it hanging on one of the mirrors, revealing just a hint of side-boob for her photographer.

"Brave choice, but amazing instincts," he added, admiration and arousal taking equal parts in his voice, which didn't help to quench the heat that was pooling between her legs any. She couldn't believe her courage. It was not her at all. The shutter of his camera exploded into action, at times even matching the beat of her heart. She even turned to face him, her breasts covered only by the deficient approximation her arm could take in place of a bra, and it was not even a particularly stable one. But with her reward of a smoldering gaze from his photographer, she found her arm had a dangerous tendency to slide away at the most inconvenient of times.

Soon, the constant moving managed to take its toll. Her jeans slid down enough to reveal that on the back, her panties resembled a g-string more than proper underwear. But realizing the explosive impact of her well-maintained curves on him, she made sure to spend most of her time with her back turned to the camera, often leaning against his bike, her breasts pressing against the leather of the seat.

But she managed to shock herself when she covered behind the bike for a moment, only to throw her jeans on the bike as well, though she put her knee-length boots back on immediately after. Excitement and desire and fear exploded in her mind, giving her lightheadedness similar to the time she had decided to enjoy a glass one too much wine, minus the haze that came with the loss of control. But her complete mental control didn't matter much when her own body decided to disobey her.

She noticed too late that her fingers had slid inside her panties, softly circling her clit, under the deficient cover provided by the bike. Thankfully, Peter stayed on the other side, but his camera continued to click, something that just made the moment even more exciting.

"Why don't you take a seat on the bike once more," Peter asked her, his voice jolting her back to reality enough to pull her hand away. When she took the seat once more, she was very aware of the wet patch that she left on the seat, her legs crossed to hide the soppy state of her panties, her arms desperately trying to hide her chest. "Magnificent, but I need to fix just one little thing," he added before starting to walk towards the bike.

But his steps weren't the rapid, professional steps of a photographer that aims to minimize the time loss to get the most photos in the shortest time. No, he walked slowly, prowling like a panther, each step soft and measured, aware that he had his prey hypnotized with his grace. And she waited, motionless other than the desperate thumping of her heart, and her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly dry lips.

"I need to fix this," he said as he slid his hand under the string of her panties. From the side, much to her desperation, as she would have liked nothing more than for his hand to delve directly to the front, exploring the same areas she had busy teasing just moments ago. But things turned really difficult when he leaned forward, his lips once again just inches away from hers, his fingers still hooked on her panties, gently caressing her side with each move.

Once again instead of delving into her lips, he hovered just an inch away, using his other hand to fix a stray of hair, then pulled back equally slowly, temping her to lean forward, therefore admitting the defeat in their little game. And Mary Jane had no intention of being the one to admit defeat, not when she was sitting on a bike, wearing just panties and knee-high boots, her crimson hair making waves on the soft breeze. It was the perfect time to push for victory.

And Mary Jane knew the perfect way to do it. Her hand slid along grabbed the edge of her panties. "I'm not sure the issue had been fixed correctly," she gasped. "But I know exactly how to handle it." With that, she snapped it off with a sharp tug, raised her hand, leaving it to fly into the air under Peter's appreciative gaze…

Their little game was about to get real intense…

* * *

 **Author notes: For once, Peter's job as a photographer is going to pay dividends...**

 **As usual, you can find my original writing in P/atreon / dirk_grey.**


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